


little talks

by their_dark_materials



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: ADA Sonny Carisi, Bisexual Dominick "Sonny" Carisi Jr., Bisexual Rafael Barba, Borderline Smut, Canon Compliant, Coming Out, Episode Tag, Established Relationship, First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, I Love You, M/M, Missing Scene, Professor Rafael Barba, Romance, Semi Slow Burn, Unresolved and then resolved sexual tension, Worry, wedding photo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:53:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23281294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/their_dark_materials/pseuds/their_dark_materials
Summary: A collection of Barisi-themed post-episode scenes for Season 21.[21x06: People Like Us: Sonny worries that he's wasted too much time. That maybe he could have married Rafael earlier.]
Relationships: Rafael Barba/Dominick "Sonny" Carisi Jr.
Comments: 20
Kudos: 74





	1. After Party (21x01)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sonny and Rafael celebrate his new promotion.

“You should have come,” Sonny says, sliding out of his grey slacks. Cool air hits his thighs sending goose pimples up and down his once-tan legs — a fading souvenir from a weekend away from the city. “Liv would have been happy to see you.” 

“What about you?” A playful voice calls out from behind him. “Would you have been happy to see me… _counsellor_?”

Sonny looks up into the dresser mirror to find Barba — no, _Rafael_ — studying him carefully; his faded maroon Harvard sweatshirt bringing out the green of his eyes, and highlighting the salt and pepper flecks in his newly-trimmed beard. The novel he’d cited as an excuse to stay home tonight is resting on his bedside table, barely dented. Sonny knows because he’d picked out that bookmark himself and it hasn’t moved all that far from the last place it had been sitting. 

He rolls his eyes. 

“Of course, I’d have been happy,” he says, even though Rafael is well aware of it. They’d spent most of the night texting each other amidst all the hearty congratulations and pats on the back at the bar, Sonny practically giving Rafael a play by play of each interaction as it had happened. “It’d be awkward living together if I wasn’t.”

He finally tears his eyes away from his boyfriend as he starts to drape his pants on the felted hanger that’s been left for him on the dresser handle. (The same antique dresser Rafael had warned him to be careful with on the morning of their first weekend spent together, Sonny purposefully stepping into Rafael’s space for a kiss as the other man had attempted to get ready for their first brunch together as an officially disclosed couple.) 

He hangs the pants on the handle of the nearest closet door, too lazy to finish what he’d started. At least when he’s got Rafael staring at him.

Sonny doesn’t need to look up to know that his boyfriend is still watching him, still studying his every move; his cool steely gaze still appraising Sonny the way it has all these years, tracking him from the squad room to the courtroom, and finally, to their bedroom. He’d never say it, but Sonny enjoys these looks. He likes knowing he has Rafael’s full and undivided attention — especially right now when he’s standing there without any pants on, showing off the pink silk boxers he’d bought as a gift for Valentine’s Day, the shade meant to match Rafael’s favourite tie… 

All so that every time his boyfriend so much as _adjusts_ his collar, he remembers that Sonny is over in his own office, wearing a matching pair of underwear that no one else will ever get to see. All so that Rafael will know that he has Sonny’s full and undivided attention, even when he’s not in the room with him. 

“Nice legs,” Rafael teases him, right on cue. He follows his words up with a smile. They both know what he’s refusing to acknowledge: the big, pink ass-shaped elephant in the room. 

“You should see my ass,” Sonny teases back, no longer having any qualms about voicing his feelings. Not when he’s stood here on what might be the biggest night of his professional life, and the man he loves is ogling him like they’re both teenagers and not two grown men in a relationship now approaching what will become their first _real_ anniversary together. (Rafael likes to argue that it’s actually been longer than that. That their time together had actually begun when he and Sonny started meeting up for drinks after his last class of his first week teaching at NYU Law School; Sonny keeping him apprised of what the squad had been up to in his absence and just how deep his dislike of Stone ran.)

_“Come on! There’s no way those were real dates,” he’d argued one night into their sixth month together, looking up from the pasta sauce he’d been stirring over to where Rafael sat grading papers._

_“And what would you say constitutes a ‘real’ date, Carisi?” Rafael had asked, not even looking up from the assignment he’d been skimming, wire-framed reading glasses resting on his face._

_“Well, usually you gotta ask a guy out first,” Sonny had pointed out, lowering the gas just a little. The sauce had continued simmering._

_“Did I or did I not ask you if you wanted to get a drink?” Rafael had countered, underlining something on the page with his red pen. The boldness of the colour had stood out against the page, Sonny had almost been relieved he wasn’t still in law school._

_“Yeah, you did. But-“ he’d countered, covering the sauce with a lid._

_“Did I not say we should do this again ‘next week’?” Rafael had pressed, not missing a beat as he’d gone to the next page._

_All at once Sonny had felt a wave of longing to see this Rafael in court once again, mixed with a squeeze of empathy for the poor people who’d been forced to withstand a harsher strain of this kind of questioning._

_“You did. But-“ Sonny had held firm, intent on standing his ground — even if he was having trouble getting a word in edgewise._

_“Did I or did_ _I not text you a few days before our next drink to confirm that you would be coming?” Rafael’s voice had been casual but measured, a former ADA laying out all the facts for what he’d assumed would be an open and shut case._

_“You did.” Sonny had conceded with a nod, a reasonable SVU detective crossing his arms across his chest._

_Rafael hadn’t waited a second longer to ask: “But?”_

_“But you gotta let a guy know you’re interested in him,” Sonny had explained, not worried about his boyfriend not listening to him. Rafael enjoyed winning too much not to. “You know, romantically.”_

_He’d paused for a few seconds and then added, “Not wait three months and_ then _kiss him.”_

_“Well if I hadn’t waited that long, we wouldn’t be here would we?” Rafael had finally looked up, a glint of mischief sparkling in his eyes, the thin frames of his glasses only emphasising it._

_“If you’d said something sooner, we could have gotten here a lot faster.” Sonny had replied, knowing that even Rafael couldn’t argue this point, not with everything they’d been through in the last six months, each new stage in their relationship bringing with it a new kind of joy — as well as a shared deeper level of intimacy._

_“Is that so?” Rafael had sounded serious but there had been a glint in his smile, a slight curve of his lips that had given away just how much he’d been enjoying this. Just how much he’d enjoyed hearing Sonny profess his love for him._

_Sonny had rolled his eyes even as he smiled. “Come on. I was crazy about you.”_

_He’d kept his gaze trained on Rafael now, his voice clear and firm when he’d said, “Still am.”_

_“That’s a relief.” Rafael hadn’t made an effort to hide his smile as he’d looked back down. “Seeing as I’m ‘crazy’ about you too.”_

_Sonny had absolutely revelled in that moment, yet another first for both of them. To be able to share how they’d felt as clear as day, neither of them frightened of having come on too strong for the other. Neither of them worried that the other might run off now that he’d been made aware of their depth of feelings._

_“But correct me if I’m wrong,” Rafael had pointed out a few seconds later. “Aren’t there_ two _people in a relationship?_ You _could have asked me out.”_

_Sonny had felt a bit affronted at that. Like he could ever do such a thing — even with his very strong feelings._

_“Make a move on a guy right as he’s at his most emotionally vulnerable? Please. You know me better than that.”_

_Rafael had rolled his eyes at that, seemingly having forgotten how badly he’d reacted to the loss of his job and the ensuing arrest, and the many weeks of coaxing it had taken before Sonny had been able to get him to hang out in public instead of just on the phone, Sonny chatting about cases he’d read in law journals._

_“Besides,” he’d continued, softly, in an effort to change the topic and soften the tone. “I already missed you too much. If I’d have made things between us awkward…”_

_He’d trailed off thinking about those days, and the nerves he’d felt with every text he’d sent, worried he might accidentally misfire and push Rafael further away._

_“Good thing we don’t live in that timeline then.” Rafael’s tone had been clipped, his voice coming out a bit thicker. He’d cleared his throat and added, a little more softly, “I wouldn’t have been able to stand it either.”_

_Sonny had smiled as Rafael’s cheeks had turned red. But he hadn’t walked back that statement._

_“So, you agree?” Sonny had grinned, seeing an opening and running with it. A clear and straight path to victory. “You could have asked me out earlier?”_

“Are you ever going to _finish_ getting undressed?” Rafael’s voice pulls him back with a jerk, reminding him that _yes_ , this is the best timeline. “Or do you plan on just standing there and teasing me for the rest of the night, detective?” 

Sonny grins but doesn’t speed up his actions, moving slowly from one shirt button to the next, and tracking Rafael’s gaze as it follows his hands — all while biting down on his lower lip.

“I think you mean, _counsellor_ ,” Sonny tells him, adding some steel to his voice. He likes the way it makes Rafael’s eyes snap up to him, and the way they seem a little darker than earlier. His lip hasn’t moved from its new position, turning redder still. Sonny quite likes the look of it.

“Oh that’s right,” Rafael finally corrects, voice a little rough, and eyes locked onto Sonny’s. “ _Counsellor_.”

Sonny grins, nice and slow, while carrying out his slow striptease. He watches as Rafael continues to look his fill, his hunger for Sonny now on full display. He’d known these silk underpants were a good idea — and not just because they show off his own growing excitement through all of this. 

When he pauses to turn and hang his shirt on the same felted hanger, Sonny almost thinks he hears Rafael _groan_ in arousal. Chuckling to himself, Sonny turns back, only to see a familiar sight under the covers, but Rafael not moving to do anything about it. Just looking at him like, _What are you going to do about it?_

Sonny tugs his usual white vest over his head and tosses it to the side, before walking over to Rafael’s side of the bed and kissing him. He’s been waiting all night to come back and do this. So he takes his time savouring it, sliding against Rafael’s tongue lazily, before dragging his own teeth across that bottom lip when he pulls away. Though he had to steady himself on the bedpost and mattress to do so.

“I wish you had come,” Sonny says, a little out of breath, manoeuvring himself onto the bed and across where Rafael’s seated, his knees on either side of his boyfriend’s hips as he kneels over him in bed, both hands on the headboard behind him.

“Why?” Rafael asks, a little less winded and maybe a tiny bit dazed. He’s sitting back and gazing up at Sonny.

“So I could show you off,” Sony tells him, eyes locked on his, before slowly dropping down to his lips again. No, this has nothing with wanting to celebrate in the bar’s bathroom halfway through the night. Even though he’d sat there envisioning it.

“Forgive me if I don’t think a disgraced former ADA would be worth showing off…” Rafael argues, half under his breath. His eyes may be dark and his gaze stuck on Sonny’s lips even as his hands slide across the waistband of his boxers, but it would seem that his brain still hasn’t stopped working.

“No… but my boyfriend, the brilliant NYU law professor and an awesome former ADA is…” Sonny drops his voice as he pulls one hand back to slide it over Rafael’s shoulder and then up his neck to cup his cheek. He loves the feel of those well-groomed bristles, poking against his skin. He’d been quite excited when the other man had started growing it. Now he can’t imagine him without it.

Sonny lowers his face, slowly closing the distance, bringing their lips closer and closer together. “I mean… You should see the ass on this guy.”

Barba chuckles, nice and low, a hint of raspiness that makes Sonny’s toes curl. He remembers the first time he’d heard that sound and how excited he’d been, Rafael laying in bed next to him _and_ laughing at one of the many dumb jokes he’d made at work. Sonny had realised then that maybe Rafael had _liked_ them after all.

“You know you keep talking about asses,” Rafael’s voice is barely above a whisper as Sonny’s lips hover over his. “You should do something about that.” 

He doesn’t try and cover those last few centimetres between them, just leaves them still hanging on the thin thread that dangles between them and the rest of their night. Instead he firmly kneads Sonny’s ass through his boxers, the heat from his hands seeping through as he sets a slow and steady rhythm. 

“Yeah, maybe I should,” Sonny whispers, before closing the gap, and kissing Rafael like he’d wanted to in that bar bathroom; tongue curling against his, already out of breath, mouth full of the taste of _Barba_. 

“Sorry I didn’t come,” Rafael gasps when they break for air, even though he’s already moving back in for another kiss.

Sonny grins as their lips are about to meet. “Oh. Don’t worry. You're gonna.” 


	2. Down to Flirt (21x03)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rafael reacts to Sonny going undercover at a gay bar.

“Explain to me why _you’re_ going undercover at a gay bar again?” Rafael asks as he watches Sonny slip out of his suit jacket and drape it on the back of his office chair. The laptop camera cuts him off at the waist, but at least he can still see his boyfriend.

“Last time I checked, that wasn’t in the ADA’s job description.”

It comes out a bit snippy, which Rafael doesn’t mean. But he can’t say he’s enjoying watching Sonny get ready for what could turn out to be a dangerous assignment — especially one that’s not even required of him. 

“It’s not,” Sonny agrees, starting to untie the tie they’d both settled on last night, Rafael always giving him feedback on his outfits now. (He says part of it is to help Sonny with his job, that a Manhattan Assistant District Attorney ought to look the part. But most days it’s just about getting his boyfriend to dress how he wants him to; Sonny Carisi is already easy on the eye, but Rafael has firm opinions about what makes him look even better. Like this dark tie with a light dotted print, a perfect complement to his shirt’s darker pinstripes.)

“But they need more people who are gonna fit in. They’re already short of trained undercover officers as it is.”

The tie joins the jacket on the back of his office chair, as Sonny gets to work on his shirt sleeves, starting with unbuttoning his left cuff. Rafael sighs inwardly and checks his Google calendar real quick. The law student he’s meant to advise isn’t due for a few more hours, so he forces himself to sit back and tells himself to enjoy all this. It’s not every day his boyfriend has to dress _down_ on the job. And it’s not every day they get to Skype like this, right in the middle of their workdays. (Some part of him thinks it’s because Sonny’s well aware of the risks, and so is trying to ensure they have a goodbye in some form.)

“... and it’s not like there are a lot of out and proud cops on the force,” Sonny continues, forcing Rafael to focus on what he’s saying, instead of just giving a voice to old worries creeping up his neck, just like it does every other time Sonny decides to do anything halfway risky. “Half these guys are gonna stick out like a sore thumb.”

Rafael shakes his head and tries to picture Finn in that environment. It doesn’t take him longer than a second to agree, the image of the older detective awkwardly standing in the corner of a Hell’s Kitchen gay bar putting a smile on his face instantly. 

It fades when he thinks of Sonny being there right next to him. It feels awful to think it, but some part of him is hoping that Sonny _does_ get made — especially with a perp out there targeting gay men. But as selfish as it is, he can’t help but feel he’s also right. His now-lawyer boyfriend shouldn’t be risking his life and going undercover like this. Wasn’t that the whole point of giving his badge and gun up?

He doesn’t realise Sonny’s stopped talking till a few seconds later, too busy fiddling with the cuff on his other arm, one sleeve already pushed up and folded back, just like he knows Rafael likes. He swallows roughly, and tries to come up with a response. Something that won’t bely the depth of his worry.

“What makes you think _you_ won’t stick out?” 

Rafael does his best to smirk, even though his voice does sound a bit strained. It’s effective because Sonny immediately drops what he’s doing and stares straight into the camera, his blue eyes narrowing slightly. Rafael can’t help but worry that maybe he’s been found out, that maybe those trained detective’s eyes can read what he’s been trying his best to hide: his worry and displeasure with this whole thing. He doesn’t want to get into another argument. (They’ve discussed this a few times before, but never come to an easy agreement. Sonny only volunteers when the squad needs the manpower, and Rafael does his best to live with it.)

Sonny doesn’t say anything as he expects, just rolls his eyes at him, like he always does when he thinks Rafael’s being ridiculous. “Hardy har har. Very funny, Rafi.”

Rafael can’t help but smile the second he hears him utter the word, Sonny just casually using his nickname. There are only three people in this world who have the privilege to use it, and so far, Sonny’s his clear favourite. (There’s a fondness to the way he holds Rafael’s name in his mouth, like he’s savouring every second he gets to utter it. Seeing as they’d had to work _up_ to being on a first-name basis with each other, it makes the whole thing a little extra special.)

“It’s just hard to picture you in that kind of environment,” Rafael finally says. He tries to smile, convey that it’s a joke, a dig at the kind of guy Sonny used to be; too-big suits and an ill-fitting moustache, paired with a brash can-do attitude that screamed the opposite of the kind of place he’ll be going to tonight. From what Rafael remembers from his younger days — though Sonny would argue they’re not so long ago — the gay bars in that part of the city tend to be on the trendier side, something that _that_ version of Carisi just wasn’t. (Of course, he’s since come to love that version of this man — what with his tendency to overshare and come around with too many pastries — the one that this version has grown from. He’d still been this sweet, caring Sonny Carisi under all that, it had just taken some time for him to get here.)

“You jealous, Rafi?”

There it is again. Sonny’s easy use of his nickname. This time it comes with a smug, shit-eating grin, like Sonny’s finally found something he can hound him for. As much as he’s worrying, Rafael can’t help but start to grudgingly return it, even though he largely dislikes this whole situation. 

“Jealous? _Me_? Please.” Rafael scoffs, even as he fights the smile still making its home on his face. “ _You’re_ the one going out to a place with loud music and overpriced drinks, while I’ll be at home in _sweatpants_.”

He tries to sound smug, like his is the better plan. Maybe if it sounds good enough Sonny will ditch his crazy idea and see some sense, coming home early with him instead. That’s why he’d made it a point to dangle the sweatpants right at the end, a form of added incentive. Sonny already knows which one he’s talking about, the ones Rafael has stolen from him; grey, long, soft to the touch, with _Fordham Law School_ printed in fading letters down the side of one leg. 

“Whoa whoa whoa,” Sonny protests, and for a split second Rafael thinks that maybe he’s done it. But then he sees that he’s finished with both his sleeves, both hands coming to rest on his waist as he stares down into the camera. “You’re telling me that you don’t care that I’m going out to a gay bar, looking like _this_.”

He gestures at the length of him, at his grey slacks, belted at the waist, at that pinstriped shirt now with a few buttons less, and sleeves folded up to accentuate his forearms. He’s as attractive as he’s ever been, and what’s worse, they both know it. 

“Why? _Should_ I be worried?” Rafael asks, his tone aiming for casual. He’s trying not to let on how much more striking his boyfriend has grown, even though under his skin he feels it. Sonny Carisi might be the only man more attractive _out_ of a suit than he already happens to be in one. “You planning on picking someone up, _Dominick_?

His choice of words is deliberate once again. Sonny Carisi’s not the only one who can play the nickname game — and Rafael isn’t the only one who’s susceptible. 

But where Rafael had fought to reveal his delight at the whole thing, Sonny just beams at him. He knows what Rafael’s doing, but he clearly doesn’t care, just happy to hear him utter that name again. (Sonny’s always said it’s what his mom calls his dad, and even him sometimes, but Rafael hadn’t been able to stop himself. Sonny’s called “Sonny” by just about everyone else. He’d wanted something that was _his_ specifically.)

Now, it would appear that the effect has worn off, because Sonny’s grown smug again, blue eyes twinkling into the camera. 

“Probably not… Unless they’re my type.” 

Rafael knows it’s bait, can see it on his face, but that doesn’t stop him from answering. “Oh yeah? What’s your type?”

He’s rewarded with a bigger smile, Sonny’s lips growing wider by the second. 

“Smart. Handsome. Grumpy…” Sonny’s smile stops growing and shrinks a little, a soft expression appearing in his eyes as he looks back at him. “Won’t tell me when he’s worried about me, because he doesn’t want to upset me.” 

Rafael’s so surprised he doesn’t care if his jaw drops. He’d really thought he’d gotten away with it thus far. “You know?”

Sonny snorts and shakes his head, but when he focuses on him again, it’s with a fond expression, like _Rafael’s_ the one being ridiculous. 

“Come on! I was a detective for years. You think I wouldn’t notice?” 

“You didn’t notice that dead rat on your lip that you called a moustache,” Rafael grumbles, despite himself, a flash of annoyance tempering the worry. “So frankly, I doubt your observation skills.”

This time Sonny _laughs_ in his face; a loud, full-bodied sound that echoes through his speakers and bounces around the narrow walls of his NYU law school office. He watches as Sonny’s head tips back and his face breaks out into a smile, a flood of warmth rushing through him at the sight of it. 

_This_ is how Sonny’s always meant to be: joyful, happy, without a care in the world — even if he _is_ rudely laughing at his worried boyfriend. 

When Sonny finally calms down, that fond look is back, and this time his tone is a lot more gentle. “Don’t worry. The captain’ll be there. So’ll Finn and Rollins. I’ll come home right after, okay? I won't even stay behind for the paperwork.”

It’s a reasonable request, and the whole thing sounds safe, yet that nagging flutter in Rafael’s belly won’t cease, no matter how much he himself tries to reassure it, repeating Sonny’s words back to himself. 

The longer he doesn’t answer, the more Sonny starts to frown, like maybe he’d underestimated the whole thing — namely the depth of Rafael’s worry. 

And somehow, _that’s_ the thing he can’t stand most of all, despite his boyfriend risking his life and going undercover. He can’t take the thought of Sonny Carisi worrying about _him_ , when all he’s doing is curling up with a book in a pair of stolen sweatpants. 

So he pushes his feelings aside and clears his throat. Sonny’s not the only one who can be thoughtful. 

“What happened to finding someone who’s your type?” 

Rafael had looked away when he’d said it, needing a moment to centre himself. But he’d looked back at the screen just in time to see a range of emotions playing out across his boyfriend’s face; Sonny going from concern to surprise to amusement to just plain delight all within seconds, his features a fluid canvas. 

“Don’t need to,” Sonny shrugs, when he finally responds. The smirk is back and it’s growing. “I’ve got this hot piece of ass waiting for me back home. Hear he’s even going to be wearing my sweatpants.”

Rafael can feel his cheeks grow warm at the compliment he’s just been dealt, but he soldiers on despite it. 

“That’s a shame,” he replies. His voice comes out a little rough. “I was actually looking forward to getting picked up.” 

“What makes you think I’d be doing all the work?” Sonny asks, like the whole thing is absurd. “I mean, have you seen me?”

He gestures at his outfit while Rafael rolls his eyes. Another reason he shouldn’t be going out tonight. 

“Is this your way of fishing for a compliment, _Counsellor_?” He teases, now more than determined not to give him one.

“What? Not your type?” Sonny jokes back, though they both know that’s not true. They’ve been together too long for it to be otherwise. 

“You mean tall, annoying, and full of bad ideas?” Rafael retorts, almost daring Sonny to respond to him. 

But he doesn’t, just stands there, rolling his eyes and shaking his head, a soft smile on his lips through all of it. 

Something in Rafael relents at that, any previous resolve instantly crumbling. 

“Lucky for both of us, that is exactly my type,” he states, clearing his throat and looking down at his hands. He wipes at an imaginary bit of dust on his work desk. 

He looks back up a second later, looking Sonny right in the eye as he says, “And no, Sonny, you’d _not_ be doing all the work.”

Sonny laughs, but it’s softer this time, less of a guffaw and more of a chuckle. 

“Who are we kidding?” He asks, not waiting for Rafael to respond. “I’d have tried to buy you a drink the second I saw you. Maybe a vodka cranberry.”

Sonny grimaces, like he’s embarrassed by his past self’s behaviour, and his tendency to come on too strong immediately.

“Well, I would have let you,” Rafael concedes, with a smile of his own. “And I’d have drunk whatever you bought me.”

The second he says it, he knows it to be true. He’s done stupider things for people he’s had fewer feelings for. 

Somehow that surprises Sonny, because now he’s gaping at him, and looking years younger in the process. 

“I mean, have you seen yourself?” Rafael mumbles, trying to explain as best he can, his face heating up as he does so. “I’d be lucky not to be fighting off the competition.”

Sonny grins brightly at that, and now it’s Rafael’s turn to shake his head and roll his eyes. It’s silly that he’d even had to say it. 

“Well, just so you know, there’s no competition,” Sonny tells him, his eyes having grown soft again and shining with a different kind of sparkle. “At least not tonight.”

“Oh good. I’d been worried,” Rafael responds drily, once again reminded of earlier. That worry’s still there, but it’s not as sharp as it was, his attempt to keep Sonny from worrying having done the trick. 

Sonny snorts, but keeps on smiling. Rafael allows himself to return it. It’s the closest to an “I love you,” he’s able to get, still unable to quite get those words out. (There are days where he cannot believe he’s this lucky, and others where he wonders what it is Sonny sees in him. Today he’s just happy they are where they are. He can’t imagine the past year without him. And he doesn’t even want to think about a future.)

Sonny’s phone rings as he’s mid-thought and by the look on Sonny’s face, he’s not so pleased either. His smile fades as he goes to pick it up. It’s a full frown by the time he answers it.

“Hey Captain,” Sonny greets, before waving at the screen. He covers the speakers at the bottom and quickly whispers, “See ya later, Rafi.”

Rafael just nods as the screen goes dark, Sonny having hung up their Skype call on his end. For a fleeting second Rafael’s confronted with his own reflection — namely the tired eyes and sad smile wrapped in a beard, a beard he knows Sonny approves of, always running his hand through it whenever he gets the chance; the gentle edge of his palm cupping Rafael's jaw as he comes in for a kiss. 

“See you later,” he sighs, clicking the window shut. He’d better get ready for that student.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I loved seeing Sonny and Finn go undercover at the bar (albeit briefly), and wondered how Rafael might feel about the whole thing, especially seeing as Sonny's an ADA now, and these kinds of things aren't exactly a part of his job description. It was interesting getting to explore Rafael's feelings as I've never really written from his point of view before, and I enjoyed getting to play with the concern from both their sides, especially given the nature of the jobs they're both doing. 
> 
> I know Barba may or may not be back next season (here's hoping that he is), but for now, I consider this canon-compliant to the series as it plays out during my slow and eventual catchup. 
> 
> If you have any thoughts, comments, questions or concerns, hit me up down below in the comments on Tumblr or Twitter under @rustandruin. Hope you're staying safe!


	3. Slow Relief (21x04)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes talking to Barba helps. Actually, most times, talking to Barba helps. So Sonny goes looking for Barba.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to change up their dynamic for this fic, so Sonny and Rafael are not together yet!

“Hey, can I come see you?”

The phone call had been an hour ago, but Sonny’s only just arrived at Washington Square Park, having chosen to walk there the whole way. He’d have taken the subway from the courthouse like he normally does, but today he just needs to clear his head — especially after everything that happened after court that afternoon. Especially after his chat with Graham.

_Because we’re not so different, you and me…_

He tries not to think about the look in the Mercer County DA’s eyes as he’d simply stared back at him during their chat, mere minutes after he’d accused him of murder — and all because he’d fought to uphold a teenage girl’s right to get an abortion. That’s when the dull ache in his stomach had begun, neither the ensuing time since nor his walk over having done much to abate it; that heavy sinking feeling only twisting itself into tighter and tighter knots, the more Sonny lets his mind linger on it.

“Carisi, over here.”

He must be losing his touch as a detective because he almost misses Barba where he’s sat on the bench, one leg crossed over the other as he leans back against it, a brown leather briefcase leaning against him, sandwiched between him and the bench’s armrest.

“Uh, hey, Barba,” Sonny says, trying to offer him a smile in greeting as he walks over. He must not be successful because almost instantly the other man frowns, cool green eyes focusing on his face, and a little furrow forming in his brow.

“Everything alright?” Barba’s tone is light, casual almost, as he gestures for Sonny to take a seat next to him, the rest of the bench still empty. It’s hard to square this man away with the same one who’d teased him for years on end, greeting his attempts to chime in with quick quips like “Booyeah Fordham Law,” and telling him he’s “seldom” right. But then again, this man is not that same Barba. That Barba would never sport a beard this thick or go to work as an NYU law professor in a casual shirt-and-cardigan-combo with slacks, having always preferred slick three-piece suits and matching silk ties. (Then again, Sonny reasons, it is spring in New York and he knows for a fact that Barba is no longer operating out of the same spacious office with great ventilation as Sonny now is, law school office space being hard to come by.)

“Yeah, no, I don’t know,” Sonny shakes his head as he sits down, trying his best not to “manspread” like his sister Theresa says he always does. Still, his long legs mean he’s sat a bit close to Barba anyway, his own briefcase covering what little space remains on the bench on his right side.

“So, talk to me,” Barba says, nudging him in the side, his tone is still light and casual, even as his eyes seem to glitter with something akin to worry. “What is it that’s bothering you exactly?”

“It’s this case,” Sonny sighs, sitting back against the bench. He knows he doesn’t have to say much more, seeing as he and Barba have been texting back and forth about the case all week. But even then, it’s been all over the news: Ohio Teen Runs Away to New York to Escape Foetal Heartbeat Laws and Get an Abortion.

Sonny’s stomach turns further at the very thought of it, at Evangeline having been stuck in such a terrible position that she’d chosen to cross state lines just to access the medical care she’d wanted. At her having been forced to do so because of religion.

“Did the verdict not go our way?” Barba’s voice cuts through all the noise that’s building in his head and Sonny realises that in his rush to leave the office — and Graham and the gathering protestors outside — behind, he’d completely forgotten to update Barba.

“No, it did,” he says, looking over to his left. Next to him, Barba’s eyes shine with something that almost looks like pride. But then Sonny blinks and it’s gone, and Barba’s busy congratulating him with an impressed nod and a warmer smile than he’d been wearing so far.

“That’s great news. Consider it your first official win, counsellor.”

“Thanks,” Sonny replies, barely mustering a smile as he quickly looks away. He knows he should be happier, but he can’t seem to summon it right now. Something about this case and his chat with Graham still hanging heavy on his shoulders.

“Did something else happen?” Barba’s voice is quiet, but it still sinks in deep.

Sonny ignores the note of concern in it as he tries to jokingly respond, “You thinking of becoming a detective, Barba?”

It doesn’t work. Barba doesn’t waiver. Then again, Barba never waivers. That’s where this one and the old one remain the same, both unshakable when they have their mind set on something. Only right now, for some bizarre reason, this Barba has his mind set on Sonny and whatever it is he's going through right now, as if getting Sonny to talk about it will help him absolve himself.

What’s crazy is, some part of Sonny actually doesn’t mind. Some part of him actually wants to voice all his thoughts, to let everything he’s been feeling spill from his lips — instead of holding it all in in an effort to remain professional, to not let anyone or anything get in the way of upholding his duties.

“My mother had an abortion,” he finally says, after a long moment of silence. He keeps his gaze trained on the tree opposite the path from them, watching as a gentle breeze sways the leaves in its branches.

Barba doesn’t say anything, but it’s more than enough, the floodgates having opened wide enough already; the twisting in Sonny’s stomach lessening and moving up to his chest, now releasing with each word he utters.

“I’m the only one who knows. Well, me and now the Mercer County DA,” Sonny says, eyes locked on the tree’s trunk. There’s a fork that splits off into two separate branches.

And then, quieter than anything else he’s said so far, “I’m the one who took my mom in.”

“I see,” Barba says, and he sounds almost sad. Sonny can’t help but turn and look at him, in search of any clue as to what he might be thinking. What he finds is Barba gazing thoughtfully at what appears to be the same tree, before turning to meet Sonny’s eyes.

“Surprised?” Sonny asks, and it’s almost a challenge; a gauntlet thrown down to see if Barba will judge him as well, just like everyone else he seems to have encountered in the last few days.

“Can’t say I am,” Barba replies gently, and for a second it looks like he’s smiling. “Then again, nothing surprises me about you, Carisi.”

Despite the half-joking tone, and the almost fond use of his name, Sonny tenses, waiting for some biting follow up comment; a bit of judgment doled out just like everyone else in his life has been doing lately. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means…” Barba says, glancing away at the last second, his focus back on the tree again. “It means you care. A lot. You cared back when you were a detective, and you still care now.”

He inhales slowly before looking back at Sonny, his eyes searching his face as he keeps talking. “You just ensured that that girl’s reproductive rights were protected and that she’ll get the care she wanted. But instead of going out and celebrating this big win, as you should, you’re sitting in a park, with me, moping.”

The last part sounds almost like Barba doesn’t know which part of this is worse, and for some reason that makes Sonny bristle.

“I’m not _moping_ ,” he states, trying to make a point, but somehow it just sounds like he’s sulking. “I just…”

He sighs and looks away from Barba and back at that tree. “I guess I’m just tired of everyone treating me like I’m some kind of bad guy just because I’m trying to do my job.”

He thinks of Kat and her accusations in the squad room, followed by Graham’s proclamations in the courtroom, each instance weighing more heavily on him than he’d thought at the time, having felt like he’d brushed it off effectively. That tense feeling returns to his gut, already forming knots as it does so.

“Unfortunately Carisi, that is the nature of the job.” Barba tells him, looking away himself. Sonny can tell because the left side of his face isn’t on fire like it had been seconds earlier; his skin slowly burning from the inside out like it sometimes does when he’s in the presence of the former ADA.

Barba’s voice sounds distant when he speaks again, like he’s taking his own trip down memory lane. “Someone’s always going to hate you.”

Sonny mentally kicks himself for accidentally dredging up old memories for the other man, especially seeing as the hate against Barba often took the form of graphic and elaborate death threats. (Sonny still remembers sifting through boxes of them in the weeks after Barba finally shared that Heredio had come up to him, each one worse than the other.)

“Uh, I- We never hated you,” Sonny looks over, smiling warmly as he gently nudges Barba’s knee with his own. “Sure, you were a pain in the ass a few times. But not enough to hate you.”

Barba looks back at him, his left eyebrow quirking upward. There’s a ghost of a smile playing on his lips as he dryly replies, “Oh good. I’ll definitely sleep a lot easier.”

That makes one of us, Sonny thinks as he nods and looks away, careful to keep his smile on his lips. He doesn’t doubt that Barba’s sharp eyes can see past it, but right now, a part of him is hoping he does — if only so he doesn’t get accused of “moping.”

But he can’t help it, can he? Not when Kat’s words are still ringing in his head, playing on a loop he can’t get out of.

_You’re Catholic, right? Is that what you think?_

Sonny feels something press into his side and sees Barba’s knee lightly tap against his, his tan slacks bright against the darker navy tones of Sonny’s trousers.

He glances up to find Barba looking back at him, an alertness in his green eyes he’d known he’d probably never evade. It turns out he’d been right after all.

“I’m guessing that’s not all that’s bothering you.”

Sonny’s cheeks grow hot and he looks away, unsure what he’s supposed to tell him. Oh, you know, I’m upset that people think my religion is stupid.

“It’s something one of the detectives said,” he finally admits after a long process of weighing the pros and cons, his inability to keep quiet winning out in the end. “About me bein’ Catholic. Like my believin’ in God is gonna prevent me from doing my job properly.”

He can feel himself getting heated as he says the last part, but it feels good to release it out into the world, to give voice to the thing that’s eating at him all this time.

Beside him, Barba’s eyebrows shoot up, like he’s considering what Sonny’s saying. His voice is clear when he asks, “And? Did it?”

“No! Of course not!” Sonny turns to look at Barba, trying to see if he really meant it, if he really thought that Sonny was the kind of guy who would let his personal feelings get in the way of his job. The way Barba meets his gaze makes him think otherwise.

“Then why does it bother you now?” It’s like being back in the courtroom, only Sonny is the one on trial, the sole focus of Barba’s questioning, the quiet in his voice clearly building up to something. He doesn’t disappoint. “You’ve had cases dealing with the Catholic church before. It’s never seemed to hit you this hard.”

Sonny swallows. As much as it feels like he loves his life out loud all the time, he hadn’t realised that the other man had been listening all along. If anything, Barba had always acted like he wanted Sonny to shut up, to stop bothering him with the many details of his life. It feels strange to know he was pretending. (Then again, Sonny can’t remember the last time Barba hadn’t taken a vested interest in what he’s been up to lately, showering him with the same level of care he is now.)

“I guess it’s just been building up,” Sonny concedes slowly. He doesn’t really know why all of this is bothering him so much, only that it had seemed nigh unbearable an hour ago. “It’s like everyone’s always in a rush to tell me what I believe in before I get a chance to tell them what I really think.”

“And what do you think?” Barba almost sounds teasing there. Sonny sneaks a glance to see that he’s watching him intently.

“I think faith is personal.” He doesn’t have to think too hard about that one. It’s been something he’s maintained for years, never pushing his beliefs onto anyone but himself. “And that we all work to build our own relationships with God.”

He almost flinches as he says that, already expecting a sharp word from the man to his right. But yet again, it does not come. Instead he’s met with curiosity, Barba’s brow furrowing as he seems to study him.

“And what is your relationship with… _Him_?” Barba finally asks, stumbling on the last word like he always has any time any discussion of personal beliefs seems to come into play. His eyes flick away at the last second.

“A lot better than it used to be,” Sonny tells him, feeling confident in this truth. He’s done the work to get here. Still, that doesn’t make it any easier to say out loud. He hasn’t really said this to anybody — well, anybody but his mother and Father Michael.

“I used to try and pray away my feelings for men.”

“And now?” Barba seems to speak before he can stop himself, his attention fixed onto Carisi like he’s a shiny new coin. If Sonny didn’t know better he’d think Barba’s almost excited to hear what he thinks, like he’s waiting on that final answer.

Sonny looks away, feeling a bit shy, even though he’s actually passed the hard part. He’d never thought he’d come out to Barba about his being bisexual, but then again, neither of them had ventured into that aspect of both their lives, though something in Sonny has long suspected something similar in Barba. He just wishes they would talk about it.

Maybe it’s time to change that.

“Now I pray that I meet the right guy.” Sonny says, trying his best not to look away, even though everything in him is screaming otherwise.

“Quite the journey, counsellor,” Barba responds, though he’s smiling as he says it. “May I ask how you got here?”

“My mom.” Sonny tells him without hesitation. “When I told her I might like guys too, she just said God doesn’t make mistakes, and if I like men, I was probably always meant to.”

“Your mother sounds wonderful,” Barba tells him, and Sonny can see that he means it, even if there’s a sad note in his voice. “Not everyone can be as supportive right away.”

He smiles sadly as he adds, “I’m pretty sure my mother still prays that I’ll meet the right woman. Even though the last person I brought home was an ex-boyfriend.”

Sonny tries to tamp down his excitement at what Barba’s just said, though his lips are already stretching wide into a smile, his mind racing at what he’s just heard: _Rafael Barba coming out to him._

“Yeah, well, I wouldn’t be too surprised if my mother’s just cool with it because it increases my chances of giving her grandbabies,” Sonny finally says, when Barba says nothing to try and walk it back. Just leaves it hovering in the air between them. “I told Bella she created a monster. But you know my sister. She loves being a mother.”

“I take it back, Carisi. I _am_ surprised,” Barba tells him, and now it’s Sonny’s turn to look at him in shock, unsure what he might be alluding to. “I thought you of all people would be excited about starting a family.”

Sonny feels his cheeks warm and he looks away, his insides fluttering at Barba even mentioning such a thought. “I told you. I just haven’t met the right person yet.”

When he looks back at Barba, he’s nodding thoughtfully. So he asks, “What about you? You ever think about starting a family?”

Barba shoots him a look and Sonny almost wants to laugh. It’s a silly question and they both know it. Sonny’s been there when Barba’s had to interact with Noah and Jessie, and now, even Billie, and he'd appeared nothing but troubled when interacting with them. And yet, Sonny can’t seem to shake this idea from his head, that Barba might be different with a child of his own; a small person whose mind and dress sense he could shape. A small person to carry on his legacy. (Sonny tries not to picture a wardrobe full of fancy small suits, or a little girl with bright eyes and a big vocabulary.)

For a second it seems like Barba might have read his mind because the expression on his face softens into something almost wistful. But Sonny blinks, and it seems to pass, his features hardening as he shakes his head. “I’m afraid the time for me to have started a family is definitely over, counsellor. And that’s even _if_ I find the right partner.”

Sonny nods, but his mind is racing again. Rafael Barba is bisexual and currently single?

(He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t had a crush on him when he’d first joined SVU, and that it hadn’t grown into something much bigger in the years since. But what had once been an infatuation had evolved into something more, something Sonny’s tried not to think about so much, too afraid to ever risk acting on it; unsure if what he might feel towards the other man could be reciprocated.)

He swallows roughly, a strange heat building up under his shirt collar, as he finds himself all too aware of how warm Barba is; the heat bleeding out of him and through Sonny’s suit. He clears his throat and wipes his now-sweaty palms on his pants, trying to avoid any and all thoughts of how Barba’s sat, limbs relaxed and loose against his own. It's like they're in Sonny's home, on his living room couch instead of in a park surrounded by people. 

In his hurry to change his focus, his eyes lock onto the ice cream truck parked nearby, the line a lot shorter than it had been earlier.

“Hey _professor_. You want some ice cream?” Sonny shifts in his seat, turning to face Barba, his left knee now pressing into the side of Barba’s right thigh. “My treat.”

If Barba’s surprised by this sudden change, he doesn’t show it, just sits there staring back at Sonny, before lazily raising an eyebrow.

Whole minutes seem to tick by before Barba shrugs. “Sure. Why not? It’s not like I have anything else to do today.”

“Sounds like a plan!” Sonny jumps to his feet, happy to put that little bit of space between them.

Next to him, Barba’s still sat, but before Sonny can give it a second thought, he’s already extending a hand, a silent offer to help him up. If Barba’s surprised by that, he doesn’t let on, simply letting Sonny pull him to his feet — even if he’s doing most of the work himself. (Sonny’s first thought is that Barba’s hand is much cooler than he’d thought, as well as a lot softer.)

Before he knows it, Barba’s on his feet, though it’s much, much closer than Sonny had been expecting, the other man now standing in Sonny’s close personal space; the only things between them the scant inches where their hands remain clasped, Sonny almost holding Barba’s hand against his chest now.

Barba smiles, though really it’s more of a smirk, and Sonny can’t help but stare down at his lips, even as Barba looks up at him with a glint in his eyes that Sonny can’t quite name. (He’d actually had a dream like this once, though it had quickly turned R-rated very, very fast — and they’d both been in Barba’s former office.)

Sonny licks his lips, an attempt to wet his already dry mouth, when there’s the sound of a child squealing loudly nearby. Sonny immediately drops Barba’s hand and takes a step back, clearing his throat as he does so.

“If I did want kids, I certainly wouldn’t want them now,” Barba almost grumbles, grabbing his bag. Sonny chuckles despite his burning cheeks, unable to quite look at the other man as he bends down to retrieve his own. 

“They’re not so bad,” Sonny eventually says, when he feels like he’s able to talk again. Those few seconds of silence have helped him. 

“That’s because you’re still young enough to remember being one,” Barba counters, albeit warmly, grinning as he looks over at Sonny.

Sonny rolls his eyes, but it doesn’t stop him smiling. He gestures for Barba to lead them.

It’s a quick walk over, only a few short steps, but it feels like they’re headed to another borough with the way time sleeps to slow down around them, people and trees passing by like they’re molasses. Sonny wouldn’t be surprised if they end up in Brooklyn at some point. All he can think about is Barba’s free hand brushing up against his, each gentle swipe too quick and fleeting; each brush another flutter in his belly.

“You often treat yourself to ice cream, Carisi?” He almost misses Barba’s question he’s so focused on their hands.

“Not regularly,” Sonny admits, his voice a bit thick. Something in him sparks, because then he quickly adds, “But someone told me to stop moping and celebrate.”

Barba almost preens at that comment somehow, his pleased grin making him seem much younger. In another life, Sonny would have liked to meet him.

“It’s brilliant advice,” Barba follows up. Sonny doesn’t need to look at him to know he’s teasing. “Sounds like this person’s a real genius.”

Sonny pretends to make a face, like he disagrees. “I dunno. He’s kind of a pain in the ass.”

He’s surprised when Barba huffs and elbows him in the side. Sonny can’t help but chuckle. “Is the great Rafael Barba at a loss for words?”

For some reason all Sonny can think about is that time he’d heard the other man say, “ _Yummy_ ,” the comment directed specifically at him — and that too, in front of the other detectives. He’d been this surprised then too, barely able to get out some kind of quick quip before Liv had stepped in.

Just like then, he doesn’t get a chance to think about it for too long, Barba firing back with an almost snippy “No, I just didn’t want to dignify that with an answer.”

Yet again, Sonny can’t stop the chuckle that escapes. It’s contagious because even Barba can’t maintain his mock irritation for long, his features softening into a relaxed smile.

There’s no line at the truck, so they go right up to the window, where a young Indian woman with pink streaks in her short black bob greets them quite cheerily. “Hey fellas, what can I get you?”

Sonny expects Barba to study the menu posted on the side, right next to the big _Mister Softee_ mascot painted in the side — though right now, the red paint is faded and peeling.

But Barba doesn’t, already quick with his order. “Just a plain vanilla cone.”

He looks surprised when Sonny gapes at him. “What?”

“You could get anything,” Sonny waves at the menu, which somehow also includes canned sodas.

“I know,” Barba says, and it sounds like he’s made up his mind. “But I got the best thing on the menu.”

Sonny rolls his eyes and looks over back at the young woman. “I’ll have the _Ninja Turtles_ popsicle.”

Next to him, Barba snorts, but it takes all of Sonny’s willpower not to look at him. His cheeks are burning red hot, and he knows Barba can probably tell, so he does his best to school his features into an expression of nonchalance — like this is what he does on a regular basis.

“ _SpongeBob_ too good for you?” Barba teases and Sonny rolls his eyes.

“Nah. Not too big a fan of the lemon.”

Barba laughs, and Sonny can’t help but look, the tenor of his voice rich and lyrical. In all the time he’s known him, he’s barely heard the other man laugh, but when he had it was never this joyful.

“My sisters and I used to fight over who got what when we were younger,” Sonny tells him, suddenly seized by the memory of summers long past, him and his three sisters all talking over each other as they tried to stake their claims on their desired flavours; no one else wanting anyone to get what they were, unable to even share a similarity. “I always got stuck with the Turtles.”

He smiles a little wider when he sees Barba actually listening to what he says. “But jokes on them. It was secretly my favourite.”

Barba laughs again, and Sonny feels another thrill of delight, of having been the cause for something so wonderful. (For a second he thinks maybe the other man is laughing _at_ him, but the look on Barba’s face suggests otherwise. He’s looking at Sonny with a warmth in his eyes. Sonny’s seen it before, but never so often.)

Before Sonny can say anything else, the young woman appears, and she holds out both a cone and an opened popsicle.

Sonny takes the cone and hands it over to Barba, trying not to react when he feels his fingertips move across the back of his hand, as he transfers the ice cream over. He then reaches back for his own, feeling the chill radiating off the recently-frozen treat onto his hand, though the warm spring air will probably take care of that.

He hands over the money and waves off the young woman’s offer of change. “Give a kid some ice cream. On me.”

He turns and gestures for Barba to leave with him, he does so, but not before giving Sonny a long look. 

“Are you always so generous?” Barba asks between licks, Sonny tries not to focus so much on it.

”Just havin’ a good day,” Sonny shrugs, licking Michelangelo’s face, the artificial orange flavour tart on his tongue. He’s relieved to find it still the same after all these years, even as his life has changed around it. “Thought I’d help make someone else’s day better too. Surprise some kid who can't afford it.”

Barba hums and gives his cone another lick. Most of his ice cream has already been eaten.

(Sonny would comment on it, but he’s distracted by Barba’s tongue — and the way it swipes at each bit of remaining vanilla.)

“When I was growing up, this was all we could afford,” Barba says after a few seconds have gone by, gesturing at the cone in his hand. The fact that he’s speaking does nothing to stop him from continuing to devour it, punctuating his words with quick licks. “My grandmother would always buy me one every Sunday after church. Of course, I never fully appreciated it.”

Sonny smiles at the image of a young Barba, the small boy in his mind, sulking and pouting in his Sunday best, slowly being appeased with ice cream.

“I actually tried to surprise her once,” Barba goes on, and judging by his tone, it’s not something he talks about much, seeming almost reluctant to share it. “I’d just started college and I was home for the summer. So I went down to the corner and got us two cones with everything.”

Sonny nods and whistles appreciatively. He’s seen how much can be packed onto them.

“When I gave her hers, she had this look on her face,” Barba’s voice is softer now, his gaze distant. “Like she was happy to receive it but it wasn’t quite what she wanted.”

“What did you do?” Sonny doesn’t mean to make Barba jump, but the question had simply slipped from his lips.

“I ran back down and got her a plain soft serve cone,” Barba says, smiling to himself. “I learned a valuable lesson that day. Two cones with everything on them is too much for one person.”

“Speak for yourself,” Sonny retorts. He’s pleased when he earns a wry chuckle.

“For what it’s worth,” he says, when Barba falls silent. “I think what you did was sweet. Even if it’s not what she really wanted.”

“Are you really saying it’s the ‘thought that counts’?” Barba asks, but he’s looking at Sonny almost playfully.

“Yeah, guess I am,” Sonny replies. Most of Michelangelo’s face is now a smooth and sweet blend of green, orange, and blue, none of the character’s features noticeable. “You were just showing her how much you loved her.”

Barba smiles gratefully, even though Sonny’s not sure if he fully accepts it.

“When did this become my pity party?”

Sonny shakes his head, but he can’t fight the smile on his lips. “I guess when it stopped being mine.”

Barba sighs dramatically, even as his eyes continue to twinkle. 

They fall silent as they continue to walk and circle the park, lost in thought as they eat their ice cream. At this point, Sonny’s mouth is full of that intense sweet-bitter taste, each slurp only renewing it. He can’t help but think of lazy summer evenings on the Staten Island pier, where he’d used to take his high school girlfriend. (A part of him wonders if Barba would like it, another questions if he’d even venture there. A third points out how crazy this is, Sonny planning for something that doesn’t even exist.)

“Why did you call me?” Barba asks, and Sonny’s heart stops short, like Barba might be privy to this thinking.

“I guess I wanted to see a friendly face,” he admits, cheeks burning hot. There had been no thought behind his call, just an overwhelming need to see Barba. All he’d known in that moment is that he’d been kind of distressed, and he’d felt that only seeing the older lawyer would calm him. 

“And you thought of me?” Barba’s tone is a cross between teasing and sarcasm, like he can’t believe Sonny might have intentionally sought him out.

“Well, we are friends…” Sonny points, using his hand to gesture between them; the half-finished popsicle bobbing in the air between them. He doesn’t know why, but he’d been scared even calling them that, that juvenile fear of unintentionally ‘friend-zoning’ himself creeping in towards the end there. As much as he knows he’s being irrational on that front, Sonny can’t help but feel like he is back in high school, too scared to let even the _possibility_ of something between them slip through his fingers. 

“We are,” Barba agrees, and it feels like a weight lifts off Sonny’s chest, even though what’s under feels a bit tender. “Though I must say, you’ve been doing a better job of it.”

“Please. You cancelled office hours,” Sonny argues, before he can stop himself. He tries to focus on a dog being walked in the distance.

If Barba notices that Sonny has his schedule memorised, he doesn’t say a word, only snorting as he responds to him. “That was as much for me as it was for you. Contrary to belief, I don’t actually enjoy teaching.”

Before Sonny can say anything, Barba carries on. “You know, I never gave you enough credit when you were a law student, Carisi. You were much better than a lot of the ones I’m currently teaching. They don’t even have half your passion.” 

This time Sonny’s cheeks run hot for a different reason. “You’re just saying that because I’m not badgering you all the time.”

He grins playfully and nudges Barba in the side, still unable to quite look at him. “Maybe I should sit in on one of your classes.”

If Barba’s alarmed, he doesn’t let slip. Just hits him with a kurt: “Please do not. I don’t want you giving anyone any ideas. I only have room for one of you in my life.”

Sonny almost stumbles at Barba’s words, but a quick glance reveals no real change on Barba’s face, even though it feels like something has indeed changed between them. Where the air once remained light, filling with a cool evening breeze, there seems to be a warm and thrumming _thickness_.

“I don’t know why I called you,” Sonny says quietly, attempting to take the leap. He knows if he doesn’t say anything now, today of all days, he might never find this same courage. “I guess I just thought seeing you would help…”

He swallows roughly, once again gesturing with his hand, the mostly-eaten popsicle now an extension. “That seeing you might make it feel… less bad.”

_Might make it feel better._

Barba nods slowly, perhaps also sensing this change, and maybe seeing where Sonny is going with it.

“And did it?” His voice is quiet despite all the noise around them. Sonny can feel him waiting.

“Yeah. It did,” Sonny tells him, thinking of that relief, that wave of it that comes over him at Barba’s mere presence. “Seeing you always does.”

There’s a beat of silence as neither of them speaks. Sonny’s barely sure that he’s breathing. All he can feel is his pulse, racing in his ears, as he finds himself crossing a line he’d only previously imagined.

“You’re just saying that because you’re full of ice cream.” Barba’s clearly trying for joking, but he comes up short. It sounds like he’s trying to find any other excuse, any other reason for Sonny to feel how he feels, for him to be saying what he’s now telling him.

Sonny bristles, a little annoyed, but mostly tired of even _Barba_ assuming. He stops walking and Barba does too. Sonny turns to his side and faces him.

“I’d say that even if I wasn’t,” he says, as clearly as he can. And then for emphasis he adds, “ _Rafael_.”

He looks at Barba meaningfully, relieved to find him not looking away, green eyes widening, then narrowing, like he’s trying to figure Sonny out. Like he can’t believe what he’s hearing and seeing.

“Is that so…” Barba asks, but it’s more of a whisper. “... _Sonny_?”

Sonny nods, his mouth going dry. He’s nothing but determined to get through this. “Yeah. In case you weren’t aware, I’ve got a bit of a thing for you.”

He clears his throat, before forging on. “Actually have for a while now.”

The corners of Barba’s mouth twitch, and there’s a twinkle in his eye, as he simply stares back at Sonny silently.

As each second ticks by, Sonny’s thoughts start to race, trying to figure out if he’s misread everything. Could Barba have only ever seen them as friends? Was all this just him actually being supportive?

The longer it takes, the more his gut starts to twist. Time stretches on between heartbeats.

“Good,” Barba finally nods, starting to smile, but Sonny’s too nervous to breathe again.

“Because I might have a bit of a thing for you too.”

“Really?” Sonny asks, not believing his ears.

“No. Some other Sonny Car-”

And just like that, Sonny can't wait. He leans forward and kisses him. 

If Barba’s startled, he recovers right away, pulling Sonny to him with the arm that’s holding his bag, even now, taking care of what remains of his cone. Sonny complies, stepping closer still, bringing his bag carrying hand up to steady himself. 

When they break apart, it feels like decades have passed, and all Sonny can taste is the sweet taste of vanilla. Barba looks similarly pleased with that popsicle. 

“So, about this other Carisi…” he teases, trying to catch his breath.

Barba just rolls his eyes up at him, more out of fondness than annoyance. Still, there’s no nonsense when he speaks again.

“Kiss me or I’ll go date _him_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've been getting some great Carisi character development this season, so one of the things I really wanted to do in this particular fic/instalment/chapter is push it further and see how he might have felt about everything that transpired. I decided to change up his and Barba's dynamic because while I do enjoy writing them as currently together, all my ideas for this tag felt quite similar or well-tread. Instead, I wanted to sort of push myself to imagine what their finally getting together might be like, and how they might have changed in the years since they first met and how it might impact their feelings for each other. Hopefully, I did all that effectively! 
> 
> If you have any thoughts, comments, questions or concerns, do let me know below. You can also find me on Tumblr and Twitter under @rustandruin. 
> 
> Have a good week and stay safe!


	4. FWIW (21x05)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rafael and Sonny talk about Rollins' outburst.

Sonny is distracted. Rafael is trying to get them both off, but his boyfriend doesn’t seem to be noticing his efforts — if anything, his lack of attention has caused everything to cool down considerably. Rafael is trying not to take that as an insult.

“Problem, counsellor?”

He looks up from where his face is literally in Sonny’s lap and fixes him with one of his hard stares, hoping it will shake him out of whatever’s keeping him — keeping _them_ — from proceeding any further.

It doesn’t. Sonny just continues to lay there, across their couch, chewing on his inner cheek, Rafael crouched over him half-naked.

He frowns.

“Hey. Sonny.” Rafael snaps his fingers in front of Sonny’s face and thankfully _that_ seems to work because at least now Sonny’s back here with him.

Rafael watches as his boyfriend pieces together everything that happened and is relieved to see that at least he has the grace to look sorry. (He’d never admit it, but Sonny’s cute like this; with his cheeks red and hair all mussed up, a nice flush slowly creeping up his bare chest. It’s a nice reminder of the effect Rafael has on him — even if his recent efforts seemed to have failed spectacularly.)

“Sorry, sorry.” Sonny clearly means it. Rafael’s never met anyone who can express a simple apology with their full physical being the way Sonny sometimes can, his cheeks now fading into soft pink as he looks down at him sheepishly.

“It’s this ECAB thing.”

“Your shift with the Early Case Assessment Bureau?” Rafael asks, pushing himself up and off where he’s been crouched over Sonny’s legs and crawls upwards to lay across him. If his naked boyfriend minds, he doesn’t say anything, just tracks Rafael with bright blue, blue eyes.

“I thought you were excited for it,” he says softly, when he’s made himself comfortable.

He thinks back to dinner on Monday night when Sonny had shared this latest piece of news. The smile on his face had reminded Rafael of when they’d first met, and Sonny had been back in law school. He’d been poorly dressed and much too excited for the job at hand, but even though he’s upgraded his wardrobe that passion still remains. He’d shown it as he’d served them both pasta.

“I was,” Sonny admits, and it sounds almost sad, like whatever spark had been lit in him has been doused since — or perhaps, seized by nerves. “But I’ve never had to do that much lawyering on my own before.”

There’s a silent, ‘ _without you there_ ’ that Sonny doesn’t say, but Rafael clearly hears. What Sonny does say is: “I don’t know how you did it.”

Rafael smiles at Sonny — and the furrowing worry in his brow — before gently pointing out, “We didn’t have anything like this back when I was ADA.”

It’s funny, but he doesn’t feel the sting of a job lost anymore. In fact, he hasn’t thought about it in months now. There used to be a point where it was all his brain could focus on from sun up to sundown. That is, until he started working at NYU law school. That is, until he started dating Sonny. (In Rafael’s mind, the two things are deeply entwined: the first day of his new job, and his first date with Sonny. They’d gone out for drinks to celebrate Rafael teaching his first class and had ended up back at his place, Sonny’s tongue down his throat. He couldn’t have wished for a better end to a day than that one.)

Under him, Sonny shifts a bit and clears his throat,and Rafael’s suddenly reminded of the naked man he has under him. The naked man he ignored to reminisce. He’s pretty sure Sonny can feel the heat radiating off his cheeks in embarrassment, if that knowing smile on his face is any indication.

“Sonny Carisi, you are more than prepared,” he says, trying to return to the matter at hand: reassuring Sonny that he’s more than qualified. “In fact, you’ve done harder things back when you were a detective.”

Sonny’s back to looking worried and frowning, and Rafael regrets having returned to this, because it seems like maybe Sonny had forgotten. “Yeah, but I always knew we’d be handing over cases to you or Stone. Now _I’m_ the one trying them.”

“You wouldn’t be an ADA if Hadid didn’t think you were up for the job,” Rafael remains resolute. Even if Sonny is wavering he isn’t. “Hell, _Liv_ would never have recommended you.”

Sonny blushes and looks away, and Rafael is filled with a wave of affection for the other man — more so at his being humble. Sonny’s the last one to take pride in any of his legal accomplishments, even if being a New York City cop and managing to pass the bar on the side is a feat that’s almost impossible. He’d celebrated that win with a low key drink after work — just like he’d celebrated passing law school with a quiet dinner.

“If I mess up, some vic might not get justice,” Sonny finally meets his eyes, finally ready to share what’s burdening him. “And who knows, I might even lose my job over this.”

Rafael fixes him with a stern look, one that’s designed to say: _Sonny, you’re being ridiculous_. “No you won’t. They’re lucky to have you and Hadid knows it.”

When Sonny doesn’t look too convinced, Rafael soldiers on. Sometimes he forgets how thick the head of the man he’s dating is. “The only difference between this and your regular job is that you’ll have a few more cases at once. Think of it as a trial by fire.”

“I guess…” Sonny says, getting lost in thought — or judging from his expression, all his worries. Rafael frowns. He remembers what this is like, how the pressure to get justice can hang over your head and tighten at the throat. It’s the one part of the job he’s never ever missed.

“Worrying about it now isn’t going to help,” he says quietly, recalling some advice an old mentor had once given him. “You’re just making yourself miserable twice.”

He can see Sonny coming back to him, the spark in his eyes starting to burn again. So he adds, “Save that for tomorrow.”

He doesn’t know what causes it, just that he has an urge, so he lowers his head and kisses Sonny on the lips.

When he pulls away, Sonny’s eyes are closed. Rafael watches as he slowly opens them again, a faint smile dancing on his lips when he looks back at him.

“What?” Rafael asks, the stronger it gets, Sonny just out-and-out grinning up at him.

“Just never thought I’d hear you talking like this,” Sonny says. “About me bein’ a lawyer.”

Rafael smiles and pretends to roll his eyes.

“Someone has to keep you in line.” There’s not a bit of snark in it.

“For what it’s worth, I’m glad it’s you,” Sonny’s still smiling, the expression transforming his whole face. Sometimes Rafael thinks looking into the sun would be easier.

“Me too,” he says and it comes out fond. So he clears his throat. “Now, can you _please_ pay attention?”

“Yes, _Professor_ ,” Sonny teases, his tone mock-serious. He only ever whips out this new nickname when he’s feeling flirty. So as much as Rafael wants to vow to make him pay for it, he’s more relieved that Sonny seems to be back to his old self and less encumbered by all his many worries; that maybe Rafael’s little pep talk managed to work, that he’d supported Sonny much like he always seems to do.

Right now, Sonny is chuckling to himself, quite pleased with his having used that title. His limbs are much looser, the tension less pronounced, and between them a certain _someone_ seems to be stirring.

Judging by Sonny’s cheeky grin, he’s noticed it too, as well as Rafael’s own response to it. He shoots him a cheeky grin as he shuffles his hips in place. It would seem he’s trying to get more comfortable.

Rafael quirks an eyebrow up at him. He doesn’t forget so easily. He’s most certainly going to get back to what he was doing just moments ago — but Sonny doesn’t need to know that. Not right now.

“What? You still think that’s going to happen?”

Sonny pouts, sticking out his bottom lip. “Come on, Rafi… Give a guy a chance.”

He brings his hands up and slowly caresses Rafael’s bare ass, before trailing a lone left finger up his right side, tracing the curves of his body under a maroon Harvard t-shirt.

“How do I know you’re not going to get distracted again?” Now it’s Rafael’s turn to pout. It’s a risk, but he figures it’s worth it.

Sonny grins, and rolls his hips — a firm response. There’s really no questioning his intentions. “I can think of a few reasons.”

Rafael can’t fight the smile on his lips, even if he is still meant to be pretending to be annoyed. He’d liked the way that had felt and there’s no hiding it.

“Well, counsellor, you make a good argument.” He grudgingly supplies, before slowly getting off his elbows and onto his hands. Might as well take his time getting into position.

Sonny grins, pleased with his win.

“Thanks. I learned from the master.”  
  


:::::  
  


Sonny’s awake. Rafael knows because his bedside table is on, and he seems to be bumping into every piece of furniture they own, each instance bringing with it a swear mumbled under his breath. Rafael’s sure god isn’t any happier about this than either of them.

“What happened?” He asks, voice thick with sleep. A quick glance at the clock on Sonny’s bedside reveals it’s 4:09AM. Rafael decides it should be a crime to be up this early on a Saturday. 

“That was Hadid,” Sonny tells him, buttoning up his shirt. He’s freshly showered but Rafael’s too drowsy to fully appreciate it. “A case came in. The daughter of someone she went to school with. She wants me to come in early.”

Rafael frowns. That doesn’t sound right. But half the ADA job is agreeing to things like this, even though he’d always hated it.

“Good luck,” he mumbles, sleep starting to call to him again. He burrows under the covers, finally having the whole blanket to himself. The bed’s always colder with Sonny no longer in it.

“Thanks, Rafi.” Sonny’s voice is warm but distant as Rafael keeps his eyes shut, his breathing already much slower.

There’s eventually a snick as the light goes off. He never feels the gentle kiss on his forehead.  
  


:::::  
  


Sonny’s always texting. Rafael doesn’t know how he does it. How he’s able to fire off a quick text while in the middle of something else, and then respond just as fast within seconds, never missing a beat. Rafael thinks it has to do with having three sisters who also text all the time — at least that’s what he’s learned since being added to the Carisi family group chat, sometime after Sonny’s birthday last year.

Right now Bella and Gina are texting back and forth, trying to figure out the logistics of the weekly family dinner on Sunday evening. Rafael’s already been roped in to bring two kinds of dessert. Especially since Sonny might not be attending.

That’s one of the reasons he’s wandering the aisles of the Columbus Circle Whole Foods in search of ingredients for both flan and tiramisu. (Sonny having emailed him the ingredients for the latter earlier in the day.)

The other is that he’s itching for some of Mrs. Carisi’s famous linguine with clams. And based on his conversation with Sonny last night, he knows that his boyfriend is too. So he’s decided a bit of a surprise is in order, having already procured the recipe from its source this morning, Sonny’s mother Tessa having patiently narrated it over the phone for him; her Staten Island accent ringing out like Sonny's. 

Rafael’s phone buzzes as he arrives at the pasta. He puts his basket down and immediately checks it.

**SONNY  
**You were right.  
  


Rafael grins and types his own response. Not caring whose way he might currently be in.

**RAFAEL  
**I’m always right. You’ll have to be more specific.

 **SONNY  
**My shoes.  
  


A slightly out-of-focus image of Sonny’s feet against the grey concrete floors of the precinct appears next.

**SONNY  
**A vic said they looked like cop shoes.  
  


Rafael snorts.

**RAFAEL  
**Clearly a person with taste.

 **SONNY  
**You should see her purse. It kind of looks like the one we got your mom for Christmas.

A whole minute goes by with three moving dots appearing and disappearing, Sonny clearly trying to organise his thoughts. Rafael steps to the side to let a man and his cart pass by.

**SONNY  
**Just hope I can put away the guy who did this to her.

 **SONNY  
**She’s trans and he’s a lawyer.

Suddenly Rafael understands where Sonny’s worry is coming from. For all the cultural change and progress their trans siblings have made in recent years, trying cases with trans victims can be an uphill battle — and that’s even with an open-minded judge and jury. And even that is contingent on a vic deciding they want to go to court.

Still, he knows Sonny won’t let this woman down. But that’s not what he tells him.

**RAFAEL  
**That just means you’ll have to work a little harder to build a case.

He hates sending messages with absolutes. Like telling an ADA not to worry would ever stop them from doing so. The only person he’s never hated for doing that is Sonny himself. Though with Sonny, he always found himself believing it.

So he does his best to extend the favour.

**RAFAEL  
**Don’t worry. You’ll think of something.

Sonny’s response is quick. But then again, most of his texts are.

**SONNY  
**Thanks =)

 **SONNY  
**I really needed to hear that.

 **RAFAEL  
**Anytime.  
  


And then, because he can’t help himself, and he knows this will probably lighten some of Sonny’s tension considerably:  
  


**RAFAEL  
**I hope they’re not riding you too hard. Tell Liv that’s my job.

 **SONNY  
**Really, Rafi?

Sonny follows it up with a whole string of laugh-crying emoji, the way he always does when something truly cracks him up.

**RAFAEL  
**Simply stating a fact, Counsellor.

All he gets is another string of emoji.  
  


:::::

  
Sonny isn’t listening. Rafael can tell. He hasn’t really said much since he answered the phone three minutes ago while on a quick run to a nearby bodega for some coffee. (No one at the station makes it beyond the third cup from their own machine, the taste of it practically abysmal by that stage. Rafael has actually considered suing that coffeemaker on several occasions. It should be against the constitution to produce something that actively terrible.)

“You know if you’re busy, we can talk later,” he says gently. This call has mostly been for Sonny’s benefit anyway, the younger man perturbed by the case of domestic violence where a wife refuses to press charges, despite the 911 call from her desperate young son.

“No no. I want to,” Sonny immediately responds, though, from his tone, his thoughts are somewhere distant. “It’s just I just got into it with Rollins.”

“Really?” Rafael asks, curious now. “What happened?”

No doubt this is about the case. Rollins has a habit of making things personal and then getting testy when the law doesn’t quite support her side. Rafael’s had to deal with her outbursts more than a few times. 

“She said I shouldn’t have taken this job because it’s all politics,” Sonny says almost sombrely. It’s clear that whatever Rollins said definitely struck a nerve. But Rafael can tell that there’s definitely more to this. It’s true. Sonny doesn’t care for politics.

It takes a full minute, but Sonny doesn’t say a word. Finally, he tells him, “She said if I hadn’t left, she’d still be okay.”

Rafael doesn’t need to see Sonny’s face to know that her words must have stung, which in turn makes his annoyance start to bubble up; his famous temper now a dormant dragon starting to stir. 

He remembers quite clearly how torn Sonny had been when he’d been offered the job, not wanting to leave his former squad in the lurch, but also unable to fully let go of such an opportunity; his inner cop and inner lawyer warring. He’d only felt comfortable taking the job after a lengthy chat with Liv, both she and Rafael on the same page with this: the Special Victims Unit deserved an ADA who’d be able to work with the squad, and care enough to take on cases most other prosecutors might shy away from.

“Guess she wasn’t so happy for me after all.”

Rafael can feel his frown start to stretch into a scowl, his blood starting to boil as he stands at their kitchen island, midway through the process of trying to make Sonny's tiramisu. 

“I understand Rollins is under a lot of pressure right now,” he finally says, voice quiet and tone tight. “But she had no right to speak to you that way. Not after everything you’ve been through.”

There’s a long stretch of silence, and then Sonny starts to speak. “But what if she’s right? What if I’m not cut out for this? Hadid’s been breathing down my neck all day. Like I don’t have other cases to worry about!”

Rafael remembers clearly what _that_ kind of pressure was like, how it felt like there was no room to simply pause and take a second for yourself, constantly being bombarded by the DA’s office and their request for updates as well as the squad and their demands for warrants and subpoenas, all while sometimes skirting the law occasionally. Rollins’ harsh words could only have aggravated everything — and of course, she’d chosen today of all days to say them. (Rafael tries not to focus too much on her exact words, knowing no good will come of it. As supportive as Rollins has always been of their relationship, he’s sometimes caught her looking at Sonny wistfully. Like he’s the path she could have wandered down if she had never quashed the possibility of them at that motel a long time ago. Like Sonny Carisi could have been _her_ happy ending.)

“Sonny, let me ask you something,” Rafael says, pushing those thoughts away. He’s had more than enough time to think about that night, and the pang of jealousy he’d felt when Sonny had eventually told him, followed by immense relief at Rollins’ actions. Right now, this is about Sonny.

“Do you regret leaving?”

“No.” Sonny’s answer comes quickly. “If anything, I feel bad I don’t feel sorry I left.”

All of Rafael’s annoyance turns into surprise. Of all the answers, this wasn’t what he’d expected.

“I know I should miss bein’ a cop,” Sonny continues. “But I don’t.”

He sounds almost relieved to admit it. Rafael feels happy to hear it. He’d hated the thought of Sonny choosing to put his life in danger on a daily basis.

“Exactly,” he says as encouragingly as he can. “Do you remember what you told me when Liv told you about the opening?”

He can hear the reluctant smile creeping into Sonny’s voice. “This could be my shot.”

“And do you remember what I told you?” Rafael continues to question.

“That I’d make an excellent DA someday.”

He didn’t know it was possible to hear someone _blush_ , but Rafael thinks it might easily be one of his favourite sounds. Though he wishes he could have seen Sonny say it.

“So forget about Rollins for now,” Rafael instructs, voice getting firm as he prepares his pep talk. “You’re not her partner anymore. It’s not your responsibility to make sure she’s okay. Your job is to make sure you get justice for the victims.”

“Yeah…” Sonny says, sounding more confident already. “Thanks, Rafi. I needed that.”

“I know.” Rafael says. He remembers what it was like — and he hates that Sonny’s even going through this. “Hang in there counsellor. It’s just a little longer.”

“From your mouth to god’s ears,” Sonny jokes, clearly back to himself again.

“If he’s listening, can you tell him the dishwasher’s acting up again?” Rafael jokes, hoping it’ll give Sonny something lighter to focus on. The only other person who wallows in their guilt more than he himself does is none other than his erstwhile boyfriend.

His plan succeeds because Sonny’s now chuckling in his ear. But it stops when his phone buzzes.

“That was Liv. Looks like I gotta go,” Sonny says, mind already wandering back to work. “Love you, Rafi.”

Before he can respond, Sonny hangs up. Not that Rafael thinks he’d even be able to. Despite all these months living together, and their starting to approach their first anniversary as a couple, neither has been able to really exchange an “I love you.” Rafael knows Sonny’s come close a few times, just as he himself has — only to chicken out at the last moment. (Some part of him is convinced he might lose all of this if he were ever to really commit to it. That’s how Rafael has lost most of the people in his life. Even if he understands it's a silly superstition.)

But now it would appear that the final seal is broken, letting loose every floodgate he’s installed within him. Now that Sonny’s said it, it doesn’t seem so hard to say it back.

Still, when he does it’s a whisper.

“Love you too, Sonny.”  
  


:::::  
  


Sonny is texting again; a quick burst of buzzing energy by Rafael’s leg on the couch. He reaches into the pocket of his Fordham Law sweatpants and fishes it out.  
  


**SONNY  
**You bought me a pizza???

Rafael’s phone buzzes as a photo of a vegetable pizza appears, half of it already eaten. He smiles and types a response.

**RAFAEL  
**Someone has to feed you.

 **SONNY  
**Have you been talking to my mother?

 **RAFAEL  
**It was the first thing on the agenda during our weekly gabfest.

 **RAFAEL  
**Plus you have to keep your strength up. Coffee is NOT a full meal. And that’s ME talking.

 **SONNY  
**Did Liv tell you that?

Rafael grins. Indeed, she had. But to his credit, Rafael had simply messaged her to inquire whether Sonny had eaten or not, and if it was worth it to have some food be delivered. (He’d paid back the favour by sending over her usual order from a Thai place she loves. She’d sent him her thank you a while ago.)

**RAFAEL  
**I plead the fifth.

Sonny sends him back a stream of laugh-crying emojis. Rafael chuckles in amusement. But as happy as he is that Sonny’s feeling better and that he’s now fed, a part of him wonders if he even noticed how they’d ended their last conversation.

Does Sonny realise he told Rafael he _loved_ him? Should Rafael bring it up and reference it himself? After all, there’s nothing for him to worry about now. He knows Sonny loves him, he said as much. It’s Rafael that’s been a little reluctant to say it.

**SONNY  
**Hey, about earlier… I didn’t mean to say it like that. I know I should have waited for the right moment.

Rafael smiles. It’s like Sonny read his mind. Then again, he has been doing a lot of that lately. Still, he doesn’t want Sonny to feel bad, not when the declaration had made him so happy.

**RAFAEL  
**I don’t know what you mean. Everything about it was perfect.

 **SONNY  
**We weren’t even in the same room! You couldn’t see my face!

 **RAFAEL  
**Then it’s a good thing I have a great imagination.

Sonny just sends him an unimpressed emoji, unable to stay away from them for too long.

**SONNY  
**As much as I want to argue with you and change your mind. I’ve got a headache and my eyes are kinda tired.

 **RAFAEL  
**There’s a Duane Reade near the station. Get some Advil and eye drops.

 **SONNY  
**Yeah. Alright. Sounds like a plan.

 **RAFAEL  
**Great. And Sonny?

 **SONNY  
**?

 **RAFAEL  
**I love you too.

Sonny texts back a full row of heart-eye emojis.

:::::

Sonny is late. But then again, Rafael has pretty much been expecting that. That’s why he’s already mixed the linguine with the clams and is letting it sit on the stove. The recipe eats just as well at room temperature anyway. Rafael just hopes Sonny hasn’t filled up on coffee.

He doesn’t have to wait or wonder for too long. The front door clicks open, and his boyfriend enters, already grumbling aloud to himself as he takes his shoes off. (Rafael all but insisted he do so when they started dating, almost scandalised by Sonny’s tendency to traipse around the house in his shoes, contaminating their clean space with the outside.)

“If I never wear this outfit again, it’ll be too soon,” Sonny says as he makes it across the hallway and enters their living room area. This entire part of their one-bedroom apartment is open space.

Rafael closes the book he’s reading and sits back against the couch, leaning his head back to see up and behind him. “Then maybe you should take it off.”

Sonny’s face appears overhead a quick second later, his hair a little dishevelled and his suit jacket missing. (Not that Rafael has ever minded the last part. He’s always appreciated the figure his boyfriend cuts in just his suit pants and vest.)

Sonny's blue eyes are fond when he warmly teases, “You’d like that. Wouldn’t you?”

Rafael smirks up at him. “No. I’d _love_ it.”

That seems to work, because Sonny shakes his head. Then he leans down and kisses him. It’s quick — an upside-down peck that seems to get more of Rafael's moustache — but it feels like so much more; like the seal of a new beginning. Rafael’s never been much of the superstitious sort, but in this, he can’t help but believe it. All good things get sealed with a kiss. And now one of those things is his future with Sonny.

“I made your favourite,” he says when Sonny pulls away, though he almost reaches up and tries to hold his neck there. This position doesn’t seem comfortable for either of them. But he also doesn’t want to change it.

“I know, I can smell,” Sonny smiles sweetly. He leans forward onto the back of the couch, seemingly okay with also remaining like this — no matter his complaint a few minutes ago.

“Good,” Rafael eventually says. “Now go get changed, because I’m hungry.”

“You waited?” Sonny asks, completely surprised. He still hasn’t stepped away from the couch.

“Of course I did,” Rafael responds. He’s almost a little insulted that Sonny could think he wouldn’t.

He’s about to bring it up when Sonny smiles again — this time it’s even wider.

“You love me,” he half-teases, half-sings.

Rafael rolls his eyes, but he smiles back as he does. “Of course I do.”

His stomach rumbles and he’s sure Sonny hears. “Though I might change my mind about that if I don’t eat something soon.”

“That’s okay,” Sonny grins happily. “I love you too, Rafi.”

Another quick peck — Rafael barely blinks — and then Sonny bounds into their bedroom.

Shaking his head, Rafael gets off the couch, grateful Sonny isn’t around to hear the way his joints pop as he stretches, lest he rethink his whole declaration from moments ago. He goes into the kitchen and starts to heat up the pasta. In their bedroom, Sonny starts speaking.

“So I spoke to Rollins…”

“And?” Rafael asks. He’d be lying if he said he hasn’t been thinking about this all day — though that had been more about his anger on Sonny’s behalf than anything.

“She apologised,” Sonny reassures. His voice sounds far, followed by the sound of their shower running.

“She knows what she said was wrong,” Sonny goes on to say. “And she is really happy for me. She just really misses seeing me all the time like she used.”

“Good.” Rafael bites his tongue, not wanting to say anything more. Like how she’d had her shot and blown it. Lucky for Rafael, he hadn’t let a chance like that pass him by — even if it had taken him so long to work up to it.

In front of him, what liquid is in the sauce starts to bubble, and Rafael realises that it’s not a competition. At least, not anymore. Sonny isn’t some detective pining for someone else and willing to risk it all on a reckless one night stand. He’s an ADA who’s just professed his love for him.

“Why don’t we go over next weekend?” He asks. After all, he does know what it’s like to miss Sonny, and he hasn’t been working with him every day for years like she did.

“Really?” Sonny asks, and he sounds surprised. There’s the sound of a hanger hook hitting their dresser handle. “You’d do that?”

“Well, it’s been a while since we hung out with your goddaughter,” Rafael says, getting both of them plates. “And I’m sure Rollins will appreciate the company.”

Sonny appears in the doorway, naked except for a towel wrapped around his narrow hips. Rafael makes a valiant effort not to stare at it as Sonny leans his right hip on the door jamb.

“You love me…” He teases again, his tone still that childish singsong.

“Yes. And you’re the one who said it first,” Rafael points out, a grasping attempt at the upper hand. “Twice.”

“And you’re the one who keeps saying it back,” Sonny says quite smugly. He doesn’t seem to be making a move towards the shower. Just holds up two fingers. “ _Twice_.”

“If you don’t hurry up, I’ll eat your share too,” Rafael threatens, not meeting Sonny's gaze on purpose. He doesn’t know if he can stop himself from walking over.

“No you won’t,” Sonny states confidently. Rafael finally breaks, looking up just in time to see the towel drop

“You love me too much.”

Sonny smirks and turns around, not even bothering to pick up the towel as he turns and heads towards the shower.

Rafael only stops gaping when he hears the bathroom door slam shut, but by then he’s already walked over to the towel. He bends down and picks it up. He stares at their bedroom and then back down at the purple piece of cloth in his hands.

Looks like dinner can wait a little longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not going to lie, I wasn't really a fan of Rollins' outburst this episode or that episode back in season 19 (a season with many, _many_ sins. So one of the things I wanted to tackle in this instalment is Sonny and Rafael's feelings about it, and how Rafael might have felt about that night in that episode. Seeing as they're largely an established couple in this series, I decided that he's mostly over it, and that Sonny's effectively chosen him anyway, so this level of internal outburst was adequate. It was also just strange that Rollins seemed so stressed in an episode that saw Sonny have to take on _three_ time-sensitive cases at once. That ended up being another thing I wanted to delve into, seeing as this is the first time we've seen him be an ADA so intensely. 
> 
> Lastly, as to Sonny and Rafael's saying 'I love you' for the first time, I figured that they've been together long enough and have probably danced around it and have kind of known how the other has felt, they've just never gotten round to saying it for fear of jinxing anything between them. In any case, I love an accidental 'I love you' and it was very fun to have that happen here. I hope I nailed the emotions throughout this, especially seeing as I kept jumping through time. (Also it's been nice to come back to this, the last chapter was a nice refresher for me as a writer. I love seeing characters get together.) 
> 
> If you have any thoughts, comments, questions, or concerns, please leave them below or tumblr/twitter, where I'm @rustandruin on both. 
> 
> Thanks again for reading! Hope you're staying safe!


	5. People Like Us (21x06)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sonny worries that he's wasted too much time. That maybe he could have married Rafael earlier.

“Did you always know you were gay?”

Sonny nearly chokes on his drink, coughing into his elbow before he finally clears his throat and gives his answer, “No. Not always.”

He looks over at Carlos on the other side of the table. He’s staring thoughtfully at his slice of pizza as he nods to himself, no doubt processing Sonny’s answer.

“What about you?” Sonny asks, dabbing at his mouth with a flimsy paper napkin he fishes out from the small table dispenser against the wall. It barely makes a difference to his skin, but he takes it as a win that Carlos doesn’t crumple in on himself as much as he usually does when he so much as reaches out for the red pepper flakes, flinching as if Sonny’s moving to hit him.

“Yeah,” Carlos nods quietly, eyes still trained on his slice as he plays with the edge of his paper plate. “I think I always knew. I never looked at girls like any of the other guys on my block did. Even Ricky checked them out sometimes.”

Sonny nods, knowing what he means. He used to do the same thing growing up; try to look at girls the way he felt everyone else did, while also wondering why they never sparked the same kind of desire he’d hear his friends talk about back then, wondering why his heart never quite skipped a beat like theirs did.

“Sexuality is… complicated,” he finally says, taking another sip of his soda. “I mean I thought _I_ was straight until a few years ago.”

He grimaces and shakes his head as he thinks of himself back then: his line of cheap, unfitted suits and a moustache that looked straight out of a porno, gazing at Rafael for long periods of time, unable to see that his desire to get his attention and impress him might come from someplace else; someplace _south_ of admiration.

“But there’s no deadline on any of this.” Sonny goes on to say, gesturing vaguely at the table between them. “You figure it out when you figure it out.”

This time, Carlos meets his eyes as he nods, eyes bright like he has something to say. Sonny figures it counts as progress.

“I knew that night, with Ricky,” Carlos says, his eyes bright, before quickly looking away, a sad smile on his face. “It just felt… right.”

Sonny can hear the slight waver in his voice, the hushed shyness of a man who isn’t used to speaking about this part of himself to anyone — let alone another gay man.

“Yeah,” Sonny agrees, not softening his voice in quite the same way, letting it echo off the walls of the mostly empty pizza parlour and into the afternoon air. He’d once told Carlos that many people have come out in the years he’d been behind bars — him being one of them. So if anything, he has to do his best to set an example to the other man, and part of that means being less self-conscious.

“I know what you mean,” Sonny empathises, feeling a flush come over his skin as memories start to resurface. “That’s how I felt the first time I ever kissed my husband.”

Carlos’ eyes widen as he hears that last word, almost glancing around the space furtively before catching himself and shaking his head; trying to break that habit. When he finally looks back at Sonny it’s with a renewed determination, like maybe he _can_ see a life for himself where he doesn’t have to hide away like he’s had to all these years. Like maybe he can actually bring himself to discuss it.

“So you’re…” Carlos starts off strong but then trails off, stumbling on the same concept that used to trip Sonny up just a few years ago. But eventually, he gets there, meeting Sonny’s gaze as he asks, “... you’re out?”

Sonny nods, taking another bite of his slice. The sausage and peppers on top have cooled and hardened in the 15 minutes since he’d bought it, but he’s always loved his pizza a bit cold anyway. (Rafael always grumbles that that’s not the ‘point’ of food. Like he isn’t the first one to suggest cold pizza for breakfast the next morning.)

“Yeah,” Sonny replies, mouth still full. If Rafael were here he’d be rolling his eyes at him. “Me and my husband.”

As Carlos appears to think it over, nodding to himself as he stares at his slice of pizza, Sonny thinks of the day he’d come out to his family, having chosen a family dinner after church to do so. Everyone had actually stopped talking for once, but then all the questions had started pouring in, more excitement than shock colouring them. (Gina had inquired if he was seeing anyone, while Bella had just grinned at him slyly. “Tell _Barba_ I say ‘hi,’” she’d whispered as she’d hugged him goodbye. It had taken everything in Sonny not to gawk at her.)

“We’ve actually been married for a while now,” Sonny goes on, taking another sip of his Sprite. “Long enough that my whole family’s started asking us when we’re going to adopt.”

He chuckles as he adds, “You know how moms are. Always thinkin’ about grandkids.”

Carlos smiles up at him, but it doesn’t quite meet his eyes. Sonny’s smile dies on his lips instantly. He winces, kicking himself for ever being so thoughtless, the floor of his stomach collapsing the more he thinks about it.

“Shit Carlos. I’m so so sorry.”

But Carlos shakes his head, waving it off. “It’s been 16 years,” he says and somehow _that_ makes Sonny feel worse. It’s not the first time his big mouth has gotten him into trouble — though it’s the first time in a long while since he’s said something _this_ tragically stupid.

“I know,” Sonny acknowledges, cheeks turning warm. He can even feel the tips of his ears burning now. “It was still pretty insensitive of me.”

“It’s alright,” Carlos says, with an attempt at a smile. It’s the most Sonny has seen him manage in recent months, his mouth just forming a thin line that looks a bit more like a grimace than an expression of joy. “I’ve heard worse in prison.”

 _Yeah, but they also thought you raped and murdered your mom and sister_ , Sonny wants to say, but he bites his tongue. No need to dig himself a bigger hole and jump into it.

They go back to silently eating.

“So, uh, how’s therapy going?” Sonny finally asks after a few seconds have passed. “Fin said Ken got you into a gay men’s support group Congratulations!”

That seems to perk Carlos up because he’s looking up and smiling again — a real one that brightens his eyes and everything. Not for the first time, Sonny feels a wave of gratitude to Fin and his son, both men having come through without being asked.

“Thanks,” Carlos says shyly, cheeks turning red. “But I never know what to say at those things.”

Sonny nods. He knows what that’s like. He’s been to his fair share of them when he’d first started to realise he might be gay, unsure of how to process all his new feelings.

“You don’t always have to talk,” Sonny suggests, putting down what’s left of his slice. He’s never really been a crust man. “Sometimes just listening is enough. Though sometimes, it can help to tell people what you’re feeling.”

Carlos purses his lips, like he’s considering it. “I guess. But I don’t really feel like talking about it.”

He says it like a confession, heavy and tight. Like it’s a bad thing he doesn’t want to talk about the worst day of his life. Like avoiding it in therapy is shameful. Sonny thinks about Carlos’ face when the judge had said he was now a free man, like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. So he keeps his mouth shut, deciding not to push the point any further. He finishes what’s left of his soda instead, tipping the can back to get at whatever little still remains. He’s pretty much done with his lunch anyway.

“This lawyer contacted me last week,” Carlos eventually says. He hasn’t touched his pizza in a while now. “She says I have a case against the city.”

“Oh yeah? What’s her name?” Sonny’s actually curious now. 

“Rita…” Carlos says, doing his hardest to remember, but Sonny already knows who he’s talking about.

“Calhoun?” He supplies, not really surprised. This would be right up her alley — even if Rafael hadn’t tipped her off at her firm’s gala last night, letting slip all the pertinent details about the case Sonny’d been handling.

“Yeah,” Carlos says, sounding like it’s all coming back. “She said she’d take on the case for free and everything.”

“Sounds like she’s confident she’s gonna win,” Sonny tells him, picturing Rita in court. If they weren’t always on opposing sides, he’d actually be a bigger fan of hers, especially with the way she’d stood by Rafael after everything. But that’s not what Carlos is asking — or at least trying to ask.

“I could probably lose my job for telling you this,” Sonny says, lowering his voice for the first time today. “But I’d take her up on her offer. Monte and Keane ruined your life. They should pay for what they did to you.

“You think?” Carlos asks. He doesn’t look so sure. But Sonny can feel it thrumming within him, his own justice gene kicking in. It’s only fair that Carlos go through with this. 

Sonny nods back confidently, “No. I _know_.”

That seems to do the trick, Carlos making his decision right then and there. Almost instantly his face starts to look lighter, and his shoulders stop drooping as much. He attacks his slice with gusto.

“How did you and your husband meet?” Carlos asks in between big bites, his appetite finally returning. He looks away, cheeks a little pink. Sonny’s almost reminded of high school; of the excitement in his sisters’ voices when they’d whisper about a guy they’d had a crush on, the flutter of butterfly wings beating fast in his own belly when the guy he hadn’t known he’d liked had patted him on the back after a good game of baseball.

He smiles. He’d never had quite this experience back then: gossiping about having his first boyfriend. Of course, neither has Carlos, having lost that right long ago. In this way, they’re actually quite similar; both having missed out the joys of queer youth, never getting to celebrate these small milestones.

“Rafi and I used to work together,” Sonny says fondly, unable to keep the smile off his face. He’ll take any opportunity to gush about his husband. “Back then _he_ used to be ADA, and I was just a detective with a massive crush.” 

Carlos chuckles, and Sonny almost doesn’t hear. Still, he takes that as another victory.

“Yeah, he’s a professor at NYU law school now,” Sonny tells him with pride, thinking of all the bright ties and suspenders that have been swapped for warm cardigans and leather loafers, Rafael Barba seeking nothing more than comfort these days, letting his credentials alone impress his students. “And _I’m_ the ADA… with a massive crush.”

That actually causes Carlos to grin, even as his gaze grows distant.

“I never thought something like this could happen…” he says softly, almost to himself. Sonny nods because he gets it. Rafael had spent half their wedding day in a similar state of disbelief, Sonny had just been grateful that they’d made it down the aisle, though later he too had felt the weight of it; something in him having swelled happily the day marriage equality had been announced, even if he hadn’t fully understood why at the time.

Remembering his wedding day sparks an idea. Sonny reaches into his front jeans pocket and fishes out his iPhone, the device having sat snug within the denim.

He unlocks the device and dives straight into his photo folder, heading straight for the album where he stores all his favourite photos of them, the ones he sometimes looks at in the middle of a hard day. He finds his favourite: one of them during their reception, both of them grinning at each other during their first dance, Sonny’s cousin having served as the photographer. (They’d worn matching suits, picked by Rafael the slate grey offset neatly by matching pink ties.)

“I know how you feel,” Sonny says, handing his phone over. Carlos takes it from him gently.

He smiles down at the image, looking a bit touched. Sonny feels an ache in his chest when he sees that. He can’t imagine a future without the love of his life. Not after it had taken him this long to find him. (Sometimes Sonny sits around gripped with worry, thinking about all the time he’s wasted with his now-husband. How maybe they could have met back in Brooklyn, when Rafael had been an ADA and Sonny still a detective.)

There’s a loud buzz, and he realises it’s coming from his phone, Carlos nearly dropping it in his surprise. He hands it back to Sonny, blushing a bit as he does. He mumbles, “Think it’s your husband.”

Sonny takes the phone fast, a little worried at what Carlos might have seen, his mind automatically going someplace graphic. While Rafael had been quite fine with him going out today, he wouldn’t be surprised if his husband had gotten impatient. They’ve barely spent much time together all week, and that’s definitely affected their sex life. (Sonny’s recent ECAB shifts have meant he’s come home ready to crash, while Rafael’s rarely in the mood for it after all his recent grading. As much as he likes teaching, he’s come to hate this part, often reading aloud from the papers he’s marking.)

Sonny checks the message, but it’s just a few words, Rafael asking him to pick up some milk on his way home. It’s stupid but it makes him grin anyway — like most messages from his husband.

He exits the message only to find himself looking at a new photo, his finger having swiped to it accidentally. It’s him and Rafael in Washington Square Park this summer, Rafael wearing a white t-shirt with PRIDE stamped across the front in bold rainbow-coloured font, grinning as Sonny kisses him on the cheek, bare lips puckered up against a thick, rich beard. Sonny himself has a glittery gay flag painted on his cheek, his matching PRIDE-themed baseball shirt covered in rainbow-coloured stripes and folded up at the sleeves, showing off the muscles in his arms as he wraps them around Rafael’s waist, pulling him towards him sideways.

It pulls at his heart, making it skip a beat. He remembers that day like it was yesterday; the setting sun turning everything a mix of orange, pink, and purple, his own skin salty with sweat as Rafael radiated heat in his arms. They’d somehow ended up on _Humans of New York_ because of that one second. If they hadn’t been fully out then, they were completely out after, friends and family still sending him the link to the image and the caption.

Sonny clears his throat and puts his phone away. He looks to see how Carlos is doing. He appears done as well, just finishing up his Pepsi.

“If you’ve got space, we should go over to this bakery near here,” Sonny suggests. “They make the _best_ cannolis.”  
  


:::::

“You’re back home early. Everything alright?”

Rafael looks so concerned standing in their hallway, his arms crossed against his chest and a deep frown cutting through his thick dark beard, green eyes glittering sharply as he searches Sonny’s face for an answer.

Sonny smiles, not even bothering to fake anything else, just tired and happy to be with his husband of three years, even the sight of Rafael in his faded grey sweater and white shirt combo over dark blue jeans causing that sick pit in his belly to quit churning for the time being.

“Yeah yeah,” he reassures him, kicking off his shoes near the door and padding up to Rafael, a box of cannoli swinging in his left hand. “Carlos was tired so he went home early.”

He comes to halt directly in front of Rafael, taking advantage of those few inches of height he has to just tower over him, gazing down at his face from up close. Rafael’s own frown has faded, but just barely. He’s still watching Sonny carefully. Like he’s some puzzle he can crack if he stares at him hard enough.

Sonny grins, because there’s not much there to figure out. Rafael knows everything there is to know about him by now. Like how he likes to kiss him every time he comes home no matter what it is Rafael is in the middle of; not even calls with Rafael’s mother are safe from Sonny’s searching lips, Lucia Barba forced to hear her son with Sonny’s tongue down his throat on more than one occasion. He’s just happy and grateful Rafael still indulges him as much as he does — even after so many years of being together. Most people wouldn’t be happy to have their shower interrupted just so Sonny can steal a quick kiss, even if that particular instance had ended with Sonny joining him in there.

“Are you going to make a move or am I going to be here all night?”

Rafael’s lips are frowning but his eyes are twinkling.

“Yeah yeah,” Sonny murmurs, before coming in for a kiss, pressing his lips to Rafael’s firmly and letting them linger longer than he normally does, left hand coming to clutch at Rafael’s side, fingers bunching up the wool and cotton. Like maybe if they stay like this he doesn’t have to think about anything else. Like maybe if they stay like this he can will away his recurring worries with just this greeting.

When he pulls away, Rafael’s eyes are still watching him, that same twinkle now replaced by crystal clear concern — the kind that Sonny won’t be able to kiss away so easily.

But that’s fine. They’re past it now, that initial need to hide their worries from each other lest they burden the other with their troubles — or at least he is. He’s well aware that Rafael cares and wants to know what’s bothering him. And that he’s perfectly willing to wait for Sonny to tell him.

Like right now.

Rafael’s looking at him with one eyebrow quirked up and his lips pressed thin, like he’s fighting his own impatience to find out what’s wrong. It had been one of the issues at the start of their relationship; Rafael running red hot instantly before getting ice cold just as quick, while Sonny continued along at a simmer before exploding all over; both of them driven by the need to fix things for the other, and neither able to wait long to do it.

Sonny dips down and gives him a quick peck on the lips. He knows what Rafael’s doing and appreciates it.

“How is Carlos?” Rafael eventually asks, when Sonny finally steps back, really committing to waiting. “Can’t imagine it’s been easy to adjust to life out of prison.”

“He’s doing okay,” Sonny says, going around his husband and straight to the kitchen counter. He sets down the plastic bag on the surface and reaches inside, to reveal the box of cannoli.

He opens it up and holds it out to Rafael, who’s already in motion walking towards him. But rather than go straight for the pastry like Sonny would have done, he goes for the drawer right below it and takes out two plates, placing one by Sonny’s elbow.

Sonny grins and places one cannoli on each. “Fin’s son Ken’s been doin’ a great job of helpin’ him out so far. Still, it ain’t easy. He’s missed out a lot in these last few years.”

“And here I was, thinking technology’s moving way too fast for _me_ ,” Rafael says, taking his plate and walking over to the other side of the counter, facing Sonny as he reaches for one of their corked but opened wine bottles.

“He asked about you,” Sonny grins, walking over to the fridge. As much as Rafael has tried, wine has never been his thing. So he reaches into it and gets himself a beer. “Think he’s still pretty shocked I’m out _and_ I’m married.”

“Probably wondering what poor unfortunate soul let you leave the house dressed like _that_ ,” Rafael frowns, pouring himself a glass of red wine. He looks at Sonny’s clothes again and grimaces.

“What? It’s the _Mets_ ,” Sonny argues, looking down at his sweatshirt as he cracks open his beer and walks back over. He’s worn it so many times the colour has faded from its initial bright blue, though the orange of the logo remains stark enough in the centre of his chest. “And you didn’t seem to have a problem with it when you were marrying me.”

“I was more concerned about it raining all over our outdoor venue,” Rafael retorts, corking the wine and returning the bottle to its original place. “I had to choose between one crisis and another.”

He sighs deeply, but when he speaks again it’s more exasperated than annoyed, like maybe he’d allow Sonny this fault and a million more, even as he continues to complain about it.

“Obviously I chose wrong. Should have included, ‘in sickness and poor fashion choices’ in my section of the wedding vows.”

Sonny chuckles, but any amusement is followed by a sudden wave of guilt, his mind spiralling back to lunch and the end of his conversation with Carlos — including that little kick of guilt that had struck them. It must be all over his face because Rafael’s concerned again, that little crease in his brow furrowing unnecessarily. Sonny feels bad for putting it there.

“You, uh, ever think about how lucky we are?” He asks, trying for a smile. Whatever he manages feels weak, watery, shallow on his face. “Like at least we’re out _and_ we found each other?”

“Each and every day.” Rafael replies, without missing a beat. It’s the most serious he’s been in a while now. Being a law professor at NYU has changed him for the better. This is the most relaxed Sonny has seen him in years. And while he’d like to take credit for it, he knows a lot of it has to do with a less demanding job. Justice doesn’t hang in the balance if Rafael takes a sick day anymore; doesn’t push down or weigh on his shoulders like it used to.

“I just keep thinking about Carlos and Ricky,” Sonny tells him, staring down the rim of his beer bottle, and running a thumb across the label as he leans on the counter. “They were just kids. They had their whole lives ahead of them…”

He pauses, takes a deep breath in. “But they never got to have that.”

He looks up at Rafael and gestures between them. “They never got to have… this.”

And that’s the thing isn’t it? The thing that’s breaking his heart most of all. The thought of someone else being denied what he’s come to think of as the moments he thinks have defined his life at this point; all the triumphs and heartaches that have allowed him to become the man he is now, and envision a future he could never have imagined even five years ago

_A future with his now husband._

“I know,” Rafael acknowledges gently, looking back at Sonny like maybe he’s familiar with this strain of fear and guilt, like maybe he too has felt it; that terrible press that comes with the realisation of time wasted and seconds he can never get back. “Life can be terribly unfair. Especially to people who don’t deserve it. But _that’s_ why we need to appreciate what we have.”

He comes around the corner and stands beside him, taking Sonny’s left hand in his and squeezing it. “Because we’re lucky enough to have _this_.”

Sonny looks down at Rafael’s fingers intertwined with his, his narrower fingers and paler skin, highlighting Rafael’s broader digits and warmer skin tone.

He squeezes Rafael’s hand back, savouring the solid warmth of it, a stark contrast with the cold beer he’d been holding seconds earlier. 

“I just wish I hadn’t wasted so much time figuring out who I was,” Sonny admits, after a long while. “We could have had all this so much sooner.”

He looks up and around the apartment as he says that, his gaze bouncing off of photos of them placed across their shelves and the small “groom and groom” cake topper sat by the TV, before trailing across the dining table where Rafael’s grading is scattered across, and his gym bag dangles off the back of a chair, Rafael reminding him to put it away for weeks now.

“Some regrets can’t be helped,” Rafael says gently, tugging on his hand and drawing Sonny’s attention back to him. Once he has it, he pointedly eyes Sonny’s sweatshirt. “Others, obviously can.”

“You’re really telling me you’re fine with me not knowing you were hitting on me for a year?” Sonny questions, ignoring Rafael’s dig. “You almost started dating someone else!”

“The key word being _almost_ ,” Rafael points out smugly. “And who knows? Maybe if we had gotten together that early we might have broken up.”

He smiles softly and adds, “My abuelita used to say, ‘Everything in its time.’ Or something like that. But I think the message still stands. Us getting together had it’s time too. I wouldn’t change that for anything.”

Sonny studies his husband’s face, the confidence in Rafael’s eyes, the sureness with which he’d said it. There is really no trace of guilt or even regret in any inch of this man. Sonny finds his worries fading.

“Carlos asked me how I knew you were the one,” Sonny says shyly looking down at their hands, his wedding ring warmed by their fingers.

“What did you tell him?” Rafael asks, tone a bit curious. His green-blue eyes study Sonny’s face intently.

“Every time I thought about my future, I thought about you.”

Sonny tells him honestly. “Like I couldn’t picture not havin’ you there with me.”

Sonny grins to himself. “Who else is going to bust my chops about my sweatshirt?”

Rafael returns that smile, lips curving up lovingly. “Sounds like you and Carlos had a good chat.”

“Yeah. We did,” Sonny says, the smile on his lips shrinking once more. At least this time it’s not because he’s guilty.

“It’s funny,” Sonny muses, thinking out loud. He wants Rafael to know this. “Carlos and I have a lot in common that way. Neither of us thought we would ever come out. Or know how to handle bein’ in love with another guy. Like he kinda was with Ricky.”

Rafael nods in understanding, squeezing Sonny’s hand tight. He’d been there back then, when Sonny had come to his office half-drunk one night into his second year with SVU, talking about “unexpected feelings” and “not knowing what to do” and how he’d “tried to pray on it.” All he’d been able to think about was Buchanan’s sly dig during one of Rafael’s trials, an insinuation that maybe the older man liked men. So he’d come to the only person he’d felt like he could talk to about this with.

And in many ways, the _reason_ for his confusion.

“Well, I like to think it worked out okay for us,” Rafael says, when Sonny doesn’t speak, too busy blushing furiously as he thinks about it. “Seeing as I got a husband out of this.”

Rafael smiles, looking down at where their hands are swinging between them, fingers still interlocked firmly. “And for what it’s worth, I couldn’t picture _my_ future with anyone else either. Why do you think I couldn’t date that other guy?”

Sonny chuckles, more than reassured. Rafael looks up into his eyes, sea green shining greener. “Looks like we’re both stuck with each other.”

“That’s fine with me,” Sonny shrugs, grinning brightly. Like _this_ could ever be a punishment. Though immediately he can think of something that would be.

“You realise you’re also stuck with this sweatshirt then.” He points out cheekily.

Rafael’s lips form a frown of disgust that Sonny hasn’t even seen levelled at Filipe Heredio — and he’s actually threatened Rafael’s life, taking several years off Sonny’s in the process.

“Remind me to burn it when you’re not looking.” Rafael pretends to think. “Or maybe ‘lose it’ in the laundry.”

It sounds like a threat, but Sonny knows it’s not. This sweatshirt’s survived everything so far in the time they’d been together. He’d worn it one winter early on in their relationship when they’d walked in the park, and later on when he’d gone to a Mets game with Ken and Fin. He’d worn it the day they’d moved in together. Each time Rafael had balked when he’d put it on, but here it still is, snug on Sonny’s lanky frame, causing his husband to sigh and frown at him.

“Now if we’re done, I’d like to get started,” Rafael says, letting go of Sonny’s hand with one last squeeze and turning around to eat his cannoli.

“Want to watch something?” He asks after taking a bite, powdered sugar dusting his beard.

“Yeah sure. But I can’t stay up too long,” Sonny says, not yet starting on his own. He’d had one with Carlos before coming back. “I’m seeing Isaiah in the morning.”

“You mean your old law school crush?” Rafael teases, a playful grin on his face. Sonny can almost imagine him as a teenager.

“ _You_ were my law school crush,” Sonny points out, shaking his head, before adding: “Aww Rafi. You almost sound jealous.”

“Pointing out you have a type isn’t me being jealous.” Rafael quips before taking another bite.”

“It’s okay if you are.” Sonny reassures him, sipping his beer. Rafael’s words hit him a moment later. “And I do _not_ have a type.”

“Sonny,” Rafael says, mock seriously putting the half-eaten cannoli on his plate. “You’re literally _married_ to a law professor.”

“Yeah, but I loved you before all this! Back when you were an ADA.” Sonny argues, unable to fight the smile on his face. “If I have a type, that’s pretty damn specific.”

“ _Isaiah_ ’s a law professor and an ADA,” Rafael teases with a smirk.

“You’re right,” Sonny nods, pretending to be struck by inspiration. “Maybe I should go see if he’d like to be my husband.”

“You could do that,” Rafael says, pretending to mull it over. “Or you could shut up and just kiss me.”

He turns to face Sonny, one hand placed on his hip. The other sits on the counter.

“Tough choice,” Sonny grins, already leaning. “Bet _he’d_ probably like my sweatshirt.”  
  


:::::

**2015**

“Hey, Professor Holmes,” Sonny nearly trips over his feet in his rush to get to the front of the classroom, his fellow law students clearing a path for him to weave through as they start to file out.

“How can I help you Carisi?” Holmes takes his time looking up from the desk where he’s gathering his notes, piercing blue-green eyes zeroing in on Sonny’s face after a long moment of waiting. (If he’d needed a minute to catch his breath a second ago, he’ll need much longer now, something in Holmes’ gaze proving unexpectedly familiar in a way Sonny has only come to experience with Barba.)

Sonny clears his throat. “I, uh, told Barba about what you said. About the preponderance of the evidence? He actually agreed with me for once!”

Sonny smiles as he thinks of that moment in the Captain’s office earlier that day, and the long look Barba had given him, a glint of _something_ in his eye when he’d eventually nodded, the corner of his lips curling into a ghost of a smile as he’d acknowledged the validity of Sonny’s opinion.

“Do you often talk to him about what we’ve discussed in class?” Holmes sounds curious but looks amused. Sonny can’t help but imagine him and Barba being friends, regularly discussing case law over drinks the way he sometimes wishes he and Barba could.

“Sort of,” Sonny admits, smiling sheepishly as he feels his cheeks turn red. Sometimes just _thinking_ about either of these men for too long does that to him. “It’s just cool seein’ him actually practice the law. It’s like, I’m always arresting people and bringin’ them in. But Barba? He gets to make a legal argument for why they should be put away.”

He thinks back to Barba delivering his summations in court, the passion in his voice as he calmly outlines his case for everyone present, the ease with which he compiles and outlines legal precedents. A familiar flutter of excitement begins to build in his gut. Lately, he’s not sure if it’s for the law or Barba.

He can feel his cheeks grow hotter.

Holmes seems to study Sonny for what feels like the world’s longest minute. He can feel a lone bead of sweat gather at the edge of his hair and curls downward, slowly trailing a path down the back of his neck; a reminder of how overly heated these classrooms can get once the weather outside starts to cool.

“Carisi, are you planning on making the jump to ADA anytime soon?” Holmes finally asks, silent scrutiny complete. His voice is quiet but the emptiness of the room seems to amplify it, each word ringing clearly in the space between them.

“I don’t know,” Sonny tells him honestly. He’s constantly having this debate with himself, still unsure which way he might be leaning. “Why do you ask?”

Holmes’ eyebrows raise at that.

“You just seem quite… motivated. That’s all.” He says it with a casual enough tone, but something about it _feels_ weighted, like there’s something under the words he’s saying, something Sonny can’t quite grasp yet. (For a second he thinks about how Barba would instantly know what’s being said, how he’d pick up these clues within seconds.)

“Seems like a lot of effort if you just love the law,” Holmes continues, with that same tone. He places the rest of his papers in his briefcase and _clicks_ it shut. “But then again, you are a police detective.”

“You sound like Barba,” Sonny chuckles before he can stop himself, his cheeks just continually on fire now.

Another long stare, like Holmes is trying to work something out. It takes everything in Sonny not to ask him what he sees.

“You and Barba seem close,” Holmes observes easily enough, like how someone might say it’s raining outside. (Sonny thinks back. No, no rain _or_ snow on the forecast.)

“Oh, no. Not really.” Sonny shakes his head and looks away, there’s a slight ache in his chest as he says that. “It’s mostly Barba just bustin’ my chops about all this law school stuff. Think he gets a kick out of it.”

“I don’t think so,” Holmes states, with a confidence that surprises Sonny, especially considering he’s never even met Barba, let alone worked with him or gone up against him in court. “Sounds to me like he listens to what you have to say. I don’t know many Manhattan ADAs who would agree to read over a second-year law student’s research paper.”

Sonny can feel his jaw drop, but does nothing to stop it. He’s surprised Holmes even remembers him saying that early last week. Most people tend to tune out his rambling at some point. But then again, Isiah Holmes isn’t most people.

“Yeah, well, he kind of owed me that one,” Sonny explains, finally gathering himself, his tongue feeling almost clumsy as he continues speaking. “He spilt coffee all over my last paper.”

(Barba had looked extra remorseful when he’d realised what he’d done, even helping gather up the pages and trying to salvage them over the locker room sink, not caring if the dark liquid stained his suit or tie. That’s how Sonny had known he’d meant it.)

Holmes nods, like he understands. “Well, see if he’ll do you another favour and let you shadow him in court.”

There’s a glint in his eye, and he seems to half-smile. “At least then you’ll be able to make a more informed decision. The best way to study criminal law is to practice it.”

Sonny swallows roughly, a little surprised he hadn’t thought of it himself. The only thing better than working _with_ Barba would be shadowing him as he works, following a few cases after they’re handed over to him.

The ache in his chest lessens.

“Uh. Thanks,” Sonny says, grateful for the advice. “I’ll have to clear it with Barba and my lieutenant, but that sounds like a great idea.”

“Glad to be of help,” Holmes says, gathering his things, having somehow already shrugged on his coat. “Now, if you’ll excuse me Carisi. I have to get home. My husband won’t be too thrilled if I’m late for our anniversary.”

“Oh! Sorry! Go ahead,” Sonny steps aside, even though he’s on the other side of Holmes’ desk. He waves an arm out as he gestures to the empty doorway. “Happy Anniversary, Professor.”

Holmes nods as he starts to walk out. “Thank you, Carisi.”

A second goes by.

Then he calls out over his shoulder, “Good luck with Barba.”

“Thanks!” Sonny says, his voice almost echoing in the space. He sometimes surprises even himself with his own enthusiasm and loudness.

He’s just grateful Holmes has his back turned to him. He doesn’t need him to see the surprise on his face — not because he has a problem with it, but because he’d never thought to imagine it. (Sure, Sonny’s had gay kids in his school growing up, and there are a few people in his law school cohort who identify that way. But there’s just no one in his immediate circle that he knows might be gay. Well, except for Holmes now.)

Sonny shakes his head and tries not to linger on the thought, on Holmes going home to his _husband_. (Sonny’s never been one to picture marriage much, despite having nearly become a priest. If anything that had been to _avoid_ the subject: namely how he could never really envision himself walking down the aisle, let alone with a _male_ partner.)

Instead, he tries to focus on Barba and what he might say, when Sonny finally dares to ask him. Almost immediately, he can picture the other man in his head, and the cool way he sometimes regards him; green eyes focused, wit razor sharp, ready to turn Sonny down in a number of ways, all without batting an eyelid.

And yet, he feels that same flutter of excitement, that low tingle deep inside that he’s now come to associate with Rafael Barba.

“It’ll be a Thanksgiving Week miracle,” Sonny whispers to himself as he turns to leave.

Like Barba’s ever going to let him shadow him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one of my favourite episodes from this season and it took me a long while to figure out what I wanted to write as a "tag" for it. I felt like there were so many moments that could have been read as Sonny empathising with another queer man, and so I wanted to dig into that. I really felt like he'd follow up on Carlos, and that him getting to have a conversation with a guy who's still figuring himself out, would allow for Sonny himself to talk about his own journey, and for me to touch on what his and Barba's married life might be like now. (I also thought that it might be fun to jump back in time to one of Sonny's classes with Holmes, because it allowed me to explore their dynamic a bit more, and how his feelings for Rafael took root. It also offers a nice parallel with him and Carlos, where he's the more experienced one.) 
> 
> While I've mostly written Sonny as having known about his sexuality early on and having been friend and colleagues with Rafael for a while before either of them acted on it, I realised I wanted to see what it might be like for him to meet Rafael and have that be the catalyst for him realising he's gay. It was also just so much fun to write them as married and in love, something I always wish for my ships. 
> 
> If you have thoughts, comments, questions, and concerns, please hit me up down below or on Tumblr or Twitter under @rustandruin. Hope you have a good week ahead! (Also if you have suggestions for tags for upcoming episodes, that might help too!)

**Author's Note:**

> I'd had an idea for this when I'd watched the season premiere of this last season, but only wrote it recently in about of life-induced stress. I wanted something that incorporated Barba into Sonny's new job celebrations and fit into my firm headcanon that they're currently boyfriends and have been so for a year now. I wanted to capture some of the warmth and love I know they could share, as well as some of that sexual tension. Hopefully, I did that justice. 
> 
> I will admit, I am a bit fuzzy on Barba's exit mostly because I didn't want to watch the episode. Do let me know if anything's amiss there. I also just didn't feel like writing smut for this first one, because I do think there's something sexy about them kind of still being themselves while fighting their clear attractions to each other. Maybe I'll do something along those lines in the next one. 
> 
> If you have any thoughts, comments, questions or concerns, please drop them below or find me on Tumblr as @rustandruin.


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